She Loves Me, She Loves Me Not
by HeathyrFeathyr
Summary: Finally, she had become Lady Gisborne. Their love wasn't perfect, but none is. As time passes they must overcome the regular hardships of love but, more often than not, the Gisbornes must discover how to live happily in the face of Guy's black heart. Can he ever be fully freed from his dark temptations? PLEASE REVIEW
1. So Much to Talk About

"This is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard!" the Sheriff spat, so angry he nearly tumbled from his chair and down to the floor. "Go tell your pathetic excuse for a Sheriff that I refuse to pay him his money until he returns the seventy crowns he owes me!" Sir Guy of Gisborne looked over to his superior and let out a long, heavy breath. For a grown man, he was such a child. The courier who delivered the message slowly curtsied and batted her lashes.

"Your high and noble Sheriff," she began slowly, "I was warned that you would tell me such a thing. Therefore, I was given a second letter." She reached into the bag on her hip and withdrew a second scroll. Handing it to one of the guards, she looked back at the Sheriff smugly. "It says that I shall not return to Leeds until you have given me the money. Until I am free to go, it is your charitable responsibility to provide me with shelter and food in return for my patience."

The Sheriff abruptly stood and snatched the scroll from his guard, pushing the man over in the process. As he read, his frown grew heavier and heavier until it nearly fell off. Sir Guy raised his eyebrows in amusement – this courier was fiery and clever. The Sheriff tossed the letter to the ground and smirked.

"Fine. Fine! You will have shelter and food – lucky for you, we occasionally get around to giving vermin in the dungeon bread and water."

"I do not believe," Guy cut in, sauntering to his boss, "that the Sheriff of Leeds would be satisfied with those arrangements." He looked to the courier with a tight smile and then turned back to business. The ruler of Nottingham chomped his teeth and looked his right hand man up and down.

"Fine. But Gisborne, she is your responsibility. If ever I decide I don't like her… Just keep her out of my way." And with a sneer he was storming out of the room. Guy nodded to the courier and led her up the stairs to the exit. When they reached the courtyard of the castle, she stopped and laughed.

"So, is he always like this?" she chuckled. "You know, all…" she puffed out her cheeks and bugged her eyes in mockery of the Sheriff's temper. Sir Guy laughed, half in agreement and half in surprise to her forwardness, and nodded. As he looked into her green eyes, he noticed something from his past. His finger, however, he could not place.

"I don't believe I ever had the honor of your name." he said through a grin. She bit her lip, that smile was overwhelming for her.

"Lacie. Lacie Stockham-"

"You are from Locksley." Guy's eyes grew in bewilderment. Lacie's head cocked to the side.

"A psychic as well? You are severely underpaid, my friend." She laughed. He cupped her hand in both of his and disregarded her joke.

"I knew you were familiar. I am Sir Guy of Gisborne. I remember we had a mutual friend." His wide smile was reflected on her face.

"Guy! Yes! We both knew Robin! Goodness mate, you got old!" Lacie threw her arms around his neck and kissed his neck softly. This took his breath away – he could not remember the last time he was held and kissed, especially by a woman. She pulled back but kept her hands on his shoulders. "Oh my, we have so many stories to share now, don't we?" Sir Guy snapped from his daze and returned to business.

"Your chambers will be prepared by nightfall. After supper I will show you to them." Lacie nodded with a wink and turned away, glided down the steps, and left the castle grounds. It all came back to Guy as he made his way back inside. On warm summer nights he would see her playing with Robin as they pretended sticks were swords and they were knights for the King. She would pick fights with boys as much as he did himself, and often he would be the one to keep her from scratching the boys up. And yet, she was the gentlest soul he ever knew. Every day she would have flowers strewn in her hair and her laughter would make the sun peek through the clouds a little brighter. And the day he finally had the courage to tell her how he felt, Guy witnessed her giving Robin of Locksley the yellow trumpet flower from her braid. Guy shook his head and tossed the memory from his mind.

"I didn't know a boy could grow so fast!" Robin laughed as the words fell from his lips with an Irish twist. The boy's mother, holding the bread and fruit Hood's men had just presented them, thanked Robin again.

"You know," Much said as he brushed dirt from his sleeve, "I am starting to think you get too much pleasure out of helping people." The outlaw laughed and gently pushed his friend's head. They regrouped with the others and began to head down the road to Sherwood forest. But they were halted.

"Well if it isn't Robin of Locksley." Came a bitter voice from behind them. The men, and Djaq, spun on their heels and Robin licked his lips with a smirk. The fuming woman stood with her chin high and her hands rested on her hips. Her long orange hair flew with the breeze. "I never thought the time would come again when I could finally confront you." Little John tightened his grip on his stick but Robin put his hand on the man's chest. He quietly said: "This is personal."

Hate in his eyes, Robin Hood took long and striding steps towards the woman. It had been fifteen years, and now it was like only minutes had passed between them. The emotion and charge her sight drew had not weakened over time. Toe to toe, they stared into each other's eyes with contempt. After a dead still, they both burst into laughter. Much turned to each of his partners for an answer, but every face was as confused as his own.

"Lacie? What on earth brought you back to Locksley?" They held each other tight and gently swayed back and forth. "You moved to Leeds years ago!"

"Yeah," she snorted, "but I came to deliver something to Nottingham. I will be here for a bit – had to find my brother while I was in town!" Much was frozen in shock, yelling: "Since when did you have a hot sister?" The two stopped and cracked up at Much's outburst. Lacie could not catch her breath.

"She is not really my sister, Much. We were childhood friends." Biting his lip, he turned back to the girl. "We have so much to talk about." He sighed, placing his hand on her cheek.


	2. Half Naked At Your Door

"And so that's when I realized it," Lacie deeply sighed as she ran her finger round the rim of her goblet, "You know, after years of trying and all the pain and misery it brought… I was too stubborn to ever see it but now I can admit it. I can't cook to save my life!" Guy's hearty laughter filled the empty room. The two of them sat alone, side by side, at a table in the dining hall of Nottingham castle. The candles had melted to nearly nothingness and the wine had all gone. The night was falling to an end and morning called, but their conversation was as alive as ever.

"Way I see it," she continued, "as long as I keep my job in Leeds I can live in the castle and never have to make my own food. So, fingers crossed." Out of the corner of his eye, Sir Guy noted the rising sun battling the darkness of night, the light burning up the stars as it spread, the stillness transforming to day. With one last chuckle, he leaned forward on his elbows.

"You must get to your chambers and rest." He quietly poked, as if it may have been some sort of personal secret. As they cruised through the maze of corridors, Guy felt simply secure with the weight of Lacie's arm tucked in his. It was as if their intertwined elbows were permanently bonded; he felt as if they were children once more in the fields of Locksley. They both yawned contently but remained in harmonic silence to her bedchambers. Approaching the door, Guy courteously unlocked it and handed her the key.

"If you should need a thing, I am three doors down on the left." He glanced to his own door and then looked back into her deep green eyes.

"I will be sure to let you know when I expect breakfast then." She coolly answered, biting her rose colored lip. Guy could not help but focus on the soft pink he so longed to touch with his own mouth. "Goodnight." Lacie whispered as she perched up to her tip toes and kiss Sir Guy's cheek long and tender. They kept eye contact until she had finally closed the door. Letting out a cavernous breath, he made his way cheerily to his room, knowing that his dreams would be of those precious lips on him once more.

After changing into her night gown, Lacie ungracefully threw herself into bed and pulled the feather down blanket to her chin. "You better not have been watching as I changed." She muttered resentfully. Sheepishly, Robin emerged from behind the window curtain. As he licked his lips he defended himself.

"Give me some credit, Lace. I'm a gentleman!" She didn't even open her eyes to scoff: "Is that why you sneak into a woman's bedchambers in the small hours of the morning, Robin?" The outlaw rolled his eyes and sat himself crossed legged on her bed. She still kept her eyes shut.

"I just wanted to be sure you were okay, the Sheriff is known to be, well… less than courteous to his guests."

"All is well in the county of Nottinghamshire." She grumbled. Lacie had missed hearing Robin's laugh. "You know," she quietly pondered aloud, "We have heard stories of Robin Hood in Leeds. The great Robin of Locksley saving the day… I thought most of them were just rubbish tales. But now that you remind me how swiftly you can break into a girl's room, they may just be on to something." Robin bit his lip and gently kicked her foot with his. He stood and placed a hand softly on her cheek.

"Goodnight, Lace." He whispered.

"Goodnight, Robin." She replied in a hushed tone as he slipped out of the window back to the forest. It was no time at all before she had drifted away into the world of her subconscious. Though there was no detail to the dream she could recall, it ended with a loud clattering that startled her awake. But was it the dream? Or was there something happening in the corridor of the castle? Heart pounding and senses alert, Lacie sat in complete stillness to note her surroundings. All was in its place – but she could not be sure. Of course, she hadn't been here long enough to know well enough if anything was, in fact, in its place.

Hastily, she flung the covers over and leaped from bed to the door. Creaking it open, her eyes scanned the hallway back and forth several times before she gained the courage to step out. The dead quiet was eerie. The morning was still young enough to require candles burning in the castle for light as she silently worked her way to the bedchambers of Sir Guy of Gisborne. Part of her had hoped he would sense her presence and simply open the door – if something was wrong, she did not want to make noise by knocking.

Her knuckles gently tapped the wood three times and she then looked side to side – nothing had changed. A little harder, she knocked again. Still no answer. She shook her hands and shrugged her shoulders. In order to wake him, she would have to make enough noise for Guy to hear and for the (possible) intruder to hear. She told herself she was brave and knocked her fingers against the door at normal strength. She began to feel the nerves fizzling in her stomach in fear that the burglar was now aware of her. The lock on the door clicked and it slid open a quarter of the way, revealing a groggy Gisborne in wrinkled pants. He looked her up and down then hurriedly averted his gaze just over her.

"My lady." He awkwardly mumbled. She was too flustered to note his odd behavior.

"Sir Guy, I heard something. I don't know – I don't know what it was. But I don't feel safe in my room." He nodded and furrowed his brow, but never redirected his stare.

"I will search it." Lacie's head tilted to the side.

"Why won't you look at me?" she whispered. He closed his eyes and gave an embarrassed sneer.

"You – forgot something." She looked down and saw that in her haste, she had neglected her robe. Standing half naked in a thin night gown, she folded her arms over her breasts.

"I assure you, Sir Guy, I had no intention of appearing at your door half bare tonight." This time, she looked away from him. He turned back inside his quarters and went to his bedside. He fetched a black velvet night cloak from the bolster and a dagger from his desk. As he went back to the door, neither of them looked away. Walking leisurely, he deliberately kept a slow pace to take it all in. A smile pulled at his lips as his eyes feasted on the slender and beautiful woman waiting at his door, taking note of the way her red hair fell over her alabaster shoulders. Lacie at least tried to pretend she was not eyeing Gisborne's form and the way he moved when he wrapped the cloak around her shoulders to cover her.

"I will search it." He repeated gently in her ear, feeling his lips brush against her soft hair that smelled of lilacs. She latched tightly onto Guy's arm as they worked back to her guest room. Their bare feet marched down the corridor in synch while their shadows danced across the stone wall. Placing one hand on the dorr handle, he turned his face to hers, theirs noses gently touching. "Stay here." He whispered.


	3. One More Time?

Biting her nails to nubs, Lacie rested her back against the wall. Minutes after entering, Guy left her room and shut the door gently behind him. He grinned at her and held her shoulders.

"Nothing is there." He said comfortingly, "It was just a dream, Lacie. You are fine." Her eyes rolled in response to her over reaction. Embarrassed, she looked up into his clear, blue, and gentle eyes.

"Thank you, Sir Guy. I apologize for disturbing you. And for – being naked." She felt such a fool. All the blood flooded to her cheeks and her only desire was to bury her face in the cloak and disappear, but as Gisborne's hand softly met her cheek, her mind became blank.

"Just call me Guy." The words barely escaped as his lips drew closer to hers, both their nerves tingling, their bodies hyper sensitive, their minds focused on nothing more than meeting for a kiss. And as his lips gently brushed hers, the both jumped.

"Gisborne!" shrieked the Sheriff. Flinching, Lacie held her face in her hands. Gisborne shut his eyes and let out a long breath to hold his tongue, and then he turned to see his boss thundering down the hall. He licked his lips and scowled at the Sheriff.

"There you are Gisborne. Up bright and early, I like that. I like that a lot." He stood toe to toe with him and looked up to see into his eyes as his face spread that wicked toothy smirk. "It's tax collection day in Mansfield. Chop chop!" The Sheriff lightly tapped Gisborne's cheek and swiftly spun round to return to other duties. Just before turning the corner, he put a finger in the air and said: "Oh, and Gisborne – for heaven's sakes, put on a shirt." With that, he was gone. Sir Guy swept the hair from his face and took the humiliation in silence. The awkward air suddenly went from electric to stale.

"You should be proud of me," Lacie boisterously chirped, "I nearly made a face at him. But I didn't." Guy simply stared at her as if he were made of stone. The Sheriff regularly claimed his pride, but never in front of someone he wanted to impress so badly. He had to remain in his place, however excruciating the shame, because without the Sheriff he had no title. No money. No power. This glue was strong and it made every lashing worth the pain. Guy took his thumb and ran it across the courier's lips, feeling how soft and desirable they were. And without a word he disappeared back to his chambers.

His fingers tapped the hilt of his sword. Just the touch of it was invigorating as he spoke. "I already gave you an extension last harvest." Gisborne darkly stated. The farmer's hand shook as he held the leather bag of a few dozen crowns.

"Sir Guy, I am begging you. My family is begging you. It has been too dry to harvest completely sellable crops. All of Mansfield is suffering, please. It's not just us. Look around, we're struggling!"

"I have heard enough." Guy muttered. He took the sack from the man's hand and walked past him. At a pause he mentioned, "Arrest him for debt to the Sheriff." As the man pleaded for mercy guards held his arms and dragged him to the paddy wagon. All the villagers stood watch outside their homes as Guy continued to forcefully claim payment. Most people paid their taxes off clean and receive only a glare or grunt, but too many came up short for Guy's satisfaction. After squeezing, backhanding, and breaking every penny out of the people he returned to his horse. Just as he began to mount, one villager stepped forward.

"And how do we pay for food then, eh?" The man's wife flew to him and repeatedly told him to apologize but he waved her away. Gisborne glaringly made his way to the man and, only inches away, pointed to his own ear.

"One more time?" he asked.

"Please, forgive him. He doesn't know what he's saying!" the wife cried. Guy paid her no attention. After a big swallow, the man repeated himself.

"And how do we pay for food? Not all of us have a pretty penny to spend on a nice sword or a stallion like that. We will starve." As he went on, the farmer's word became harder and more resentful. Guy sniffed and softened his face. A warm but small smile appeared as he said, "My good man." He took his hands and straightened out the wrinkles on the man's vest and brushed away the bits of plant from working in the field. In an instant, he snapped to fury. Guy of Gisborne grabbed the man's throat and pulled him closer.

"I do not care what you eat! I do not ever want to hear a complaint from you or your people again. Now how do I ensure that?" his left hand withdrew a dagger from his side. The man's eyes swelled in terror. "Now tell me, good people of Mansfield, which would teach you your lesson quicker – do I cut out his tongue so he cannot whine, or do I take his ears so that he will never hear your complaints again?"

Women cried and children hid behind their dresses. But no answer came. Guy nodded and proceeded to enforce both punishments.

The castle gate drew up as Sir Guy of Gisborne and his men returned to Nottingham castle. Fire still burned in his eyes from the example he drew today, but in an instant that fury was extinguished upon entering the courtyard. There on the steps sat Lacie surrounded by flowers of all colors. Singing a song to herself, she was braiding the vegetation into a glorious headband with a train. Guy ordered his men to take care of the prisoners and escort the taxes to the Sheriff. Lacie had barely noticed as Guy climbed the steps then sat next to her. After removing his gloves he gently lifted one chain of blossoms. With the other hand he tucked some strands of free ginger hair behind her ear.

"I went to market today." Lacie said mildly as if they were in mid-conversation, "And you will never guess what I saw. A little girl was pitching prices selling poorly dyed cloth and mediocre fruits. So I asked her, I said, 'Why are you running this booth alone my dear?' She tells me that her mother is ill. Her mum has come down with consumption and she can hardly drag herself out of bed. If the girl doesn't work long hours every day, they won't have the money to call a doctor. So I bought a great amount of her goods and told her that she was brave." Lacie's green eyes looked up onto Guy's face. "The girl says to me, all six or seven years of her, says that it is a small price to pay for her mum's health. So, I decided to make her something to cheer her up, let her know that she inspired me to do good." Guy blinked.

"You do not know her or her mother?" he asked, obviously lost in a state of confusion. Lacie just shrugged and went back to intertwining honeysuckles.

"Haven't even a clue of their names. Does it make a difference?" Guy thought long and hard. To him, she would have just been a girl hawking off cheap items for more money than their worth. But to Lacie, she was an example. He replied in a hushed tone, "I suppose not." She dropped her work and quickly grabbed Guy's left arm at the wrist.

"You're hurt." She gravely whimpered. Gisborne looked down to see the blood stain on his sleeve. He knew full well it was not his – it belonged to the farmer who he maimed just hours ago. He tried to pull away but she reattached to him. Putting his hand over hers, he was very reassuring.

"It is not mine. We encountered outlaws in the woods and they began an insurgence. I am fine." Their eyes locked for a moment until she swatted his chest.

"Don't ever worry me like that again." And just like that, she went back to her florets.


	4. Courtly Love

"Eh, I can't complain. This place is much nicer than Leeds." Lacie watched Robin shake his head while biting into his green apple.

"But really, two weeks and the Sheriff is still too stubborn to pay off his debt? He has been bleeding the villages dry – I know he has the money." Hood laid back and rested on her soft bed. The quiet of the night drifted in through her window and left him at ease. Even down the corridor from Gisborne, her company made him relaxed. Lacie put her needlework down on the desk and went over to sit by him. Placing a hand on his stomach, she giggled.

"Oh I know, is he not the most devilish and ridiculous looking man in all of England? I mean, what's with that jewel in his tooth? Creeps me out." Robin laughed so hard he nearly choked on his produce. He placed his hand on top of hers and smiled.

"I missed you Lace. We had so much fun as carefree children. Thank you for bringing that warmth back to me." She gave him a small grin. The knock at her bedchamber door made them freeze. Robin swiftly got up and placed himself behind the bed's canopy curtain. Once he was out of sight, Lacie invited the guest to come in. His entrance made her smile spread across her face.

"Guy!" She rose to meet him. Taking her hand, he slowly scanned over every feature of her face.

"I apologize for disturbing you so late." He began.

"Oh please," she interrupted, "I came to you at dawn naked. This is much more polite." He closed his eyes and laughed. He laughed the same deep laugh she always gave to him, the kind that he could feel through every nerve in his body and sense in his heart.

"I came to ask you something." Lacie sat on the edge of her bed and signaled for him to do the same. Sir Guy accepted and placed her hands in his lap. "I have just been informed that there is to be a wedding in Derbyshire, a good friend of the Sheriff's nonetheless. As so it is our duty to attend and give the Lord of the land our best wishes."

"Sounds fun, bring me back some cake." She smirked. Guy tightened his grip on her delicate hands.

"I wanted – well, actually I had rather hoped….. I would greatly appreciate if you would do me the honor of keeping me company at the ceremony." _There, _he thought to himself_, since when was that so hard to say?_ Lacie's eyes ignited with excitement.

"Yes! Yes, Guy, oh I would love to! I love weddings." She threw her arms around his neck and pressed her face to his cheek. Every time she touched him words were lost, but when their faces met even his breath seemed to vanish. Tightly he pulled her body closer. He would not let this affection get away. Robin felt restless as he saw her in the hands of Gisborne, he wanted to leap out and take her far away from here, where he could never touch her. But alas, his only choice was to watch. As they pulled apart, she softly chewed her lip and Guy struggled to breathe. Timidly and ever so slowly, he kissed her cheek as a young schoolboy does to his crush in a higher grade.

"We will leave in the morning, I will come fetch you when it is time." He whispered in her ear as his hand brushed through her hair. Sir Guy collected himself and stood, heading to the door. On his way, he said: "I shall bid you good evening, my lady." Lacie found herself frozen in a state of joy until the door clicked shut. She rushed to it and swung it open, calling Guy's name down the hall. Gisborne and the two guards on duty turned to her. Blushingly, Lacie muttered, "Good evening." Guy grinned and nodded his head before the courier went back inside. Closing the door, she rested her forehead against it and laughed. He made her feel so good….

"Are you mad?" Came the Irish voice from behind the curtain. He flew out with an expression of bafflement. Lacie put her hands on her head and shook it with glee surging from her eyes. She ran to her closet to choose her dress for the wedding with Robin's steps not far behind. "You cannot trust Gisborne." He growled. Her hands pushed gowns aside as she searched for her favorite.

"Says you. We used to trust each other back in the day, the three of us." Robin rolled his eyes.

"He is not the same man as he was growing up in Locksley. Nor am I." He placed a hand on her shoulder as her absent minded response came.

"I noticed – you didn't used to hide behind my curtains." Hood flipped her around to face him and looked into her eyes with deathly significance.

"He is a dangerous man. He kills and he steals and he works only for the profit he can find in his own pocket. Do not trust him, he will hurt you. He is using you."

"For what, Robin? My needlework skills, or is he using me to get to the money I simply don't have?" she shook her head and asked him to leave.

"Trust me." Robin begged. Lacie said nothing. Robin closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I will keep good watch over you; my men and I will ensure your safety. But please, Lace, please. Be wary." As she asked him to leave again, he nodded. And with that, Robin Hood left Nottingham castle.

As her fingers ran over the velvet on her favorite dress, Lacie began to recite the rules of Courtly Love. She knew with all of her heart that she was to marry Sir Guy of Gisborne.


	5. I Do

All eyes were on the couple as their lips met. Their bodies were stiff with fear of toppling the cakes as the kissed above the highest tier. Nothing fell; therefore the newlyweds were blessed with fertility and prosperity. The entire courtyard of the Derbyshire castle was filled to capacity with clapping and jeering friends and nobles. The groom helped the bride remove the blue ribbon from her hair as they kissed again. Sir Guy noted the scowl on the Sheriff of Nottingham's face. He hated this nobleman, but they would soon need more troops and this was the best way to remain on his good side. This was all a façade. But Sir Guy of Gisborne could care less as he shoved the idea of the Sheriff out of his brain. He looked to his left at the gorgeous redhead holding his hand. Her smile was so bright and her eyes so lively as she watched the festivities – the marriage was completed and now the jugglers and minstrels were ready to shine. Lacie returned Gisborne's look and bit her lip. He loved that little habit of hers. He ticked his head sideways to suggest they leave the courtyard and gracefully she followed him.

They strode hand in hand under trellises adorned in blue silk and flowers. Children ran around with toys and sticks and hollered and laughed as they played, meanwhile adults were content in their own conversations or doing their best to primp themselves to meet the noble couple. Nearby the castle was a small pond where the couple stopped and leaned their elbows on the fence, watching the festivities unfold. Performers in makeup ran about telling stories and juggling incredible amounts of goods. They stood close enough for their arms to touch.

"Do you think it will ever happen to us?" Lacie asked coyly. "I mean, think about it. The happiest marriages you see are either nobles with everything or peasants with nothing but their love. What about people like me in the middle, just trying to get by with a good days work and a comfortable pay?"

"That's not true. Because once you are in love, you do have everything." Guy smiled. He paused and then continued, "Have you ever been kept awake at night, Lacie, by burdening thoughts? Thoughts that make you reconsider your choices, you think you are happy but the world seems so small."

"You mean like how you are happy, but your happiness is only absence of sadness. That there is so much more out there, but you need a key or a little piece to fill the gap in your heart before you can understand joy?" She turned and looked into his eyes. "No, never, why do you ask?" They both began to laugh as he rested his hand on the back of her head, feeling her soft hair and the flowers that adorned it.

"Way I see it, it will come to me. I have been courted before, but after my father's death I was left to make my matrimonial decisions myself." She snorted, "You should see the poor taste in men I attract." Guy began to stroke his hand through her hair.

"I would be delighted if you would consider me an exception to that trend." Lacie leaned a bit closer to him to where their noses almost met.

"Well, you are the only tax collector I have met who was not fat, unattractive, and sporting a ridiculous mustache." Guy closed his eyes and grinned.

"So my competition is slim." He opened his eyes to see her chewing her soft, rosy lip again. "I would say you have a leg up." She whispered to him. Behind her, Gisborne saw the Sheriff of Nottingham storming back to his carriage; he was quite obviously prepared to leave. Guy was working on borrowed time. He quickly placed his other hand on her pale cheek and smiled. He had to do it now.

Gently, he tilted her head up and brought his own lips to hers. Their kiss was so passionate and so gentle; he wished they could stay locked here forever. Lacie wrapped her arms around Sir Guy and allowed herself to drift away with him, far from Derbyshire, far from England, far from anyone else. It was worth the wait they had endured. Guy pressed his forehead to hers and they stood in silence gazing into each other's eyes.

"Gisborne!" screeched the Sheriff from his carriage.

"Mummy's waiting." Lacie whispered to her lover. He laughed, kissed her again, and took her to the carriage to return to Nottingham.

Lacie couldn't even feel the ground beneath her feet. The moment she entered her bedchambers she ran to her desk to pen a letter to the servants of Leeds to tell them the good news.

"Are you kidding me?" spat a low voice behind her. Gasping, she turned to see Robin Hood and Allan-A-Dale standing by the hearth. "I told you to stay away from Gisborne."

"We went to a wedding –"

"No." Hood interrupted her. He trudged towards her with contempt in his heart and his finger in her face. "I know that you kissed him. You are bound to be planning your betrothal soon and all after I said – "

"So you're spying on me?" Lacie barked, shaking her head in disbelief.

"I told you my men would keep you safe." Her eyes shot to Allan.

"You followed me to Derbyshire… You followed me round?" Allan walked towards her and squatted next to the seated woman.

"Robin told me to keep you safe. Gisborne can't be trusted –"

"Would you stop with that you mad men? Please! Just go." Robin shook his head. They stood in a stalemate. One more time, she asked the men to leave. They did not.

"Guards!" Lacie hollered at the top of her lungs. Hood rolled his eyes.

"Come with me the next time he collects taxes – I will show you who this man truly is." And with that, they scurried out the window. Armored men entered at the moment Allan was out of sight, and were quite upset when Lacie told them it was a false alarm. She knew who Sir Guy of Gisborne was, didn't she? There is not a fiber of him that could sway towards violence; she was so sure of it.


	6. This Is Very Good

This evening was exactly what he needed – he could care less about why the Sheriff decided to throw such an elaborate party. The head of Nottingham just wanted to mark his superiority in Nottinghamshire, but Sir Guy of Gisborne just wanted to waste away the evening dancing and drinking with Lacie. He returned to the redheaded beauty with goblets replenished with wine, kissing her forehead as he sat next to her.

"What's the matter?" he asked, noting her solemn face that had been so cheery in the last dance.

"I overheard the Sheriff. He said that people were outside begging for food and leftovers from the feast. He plans to turn them away, but why are we not feeding them, they are starving!" Guy took her delicate hands into his own and looked lovingly into her worried eyes.

"They are not starving. They are lying." He took a sip of wine and continued, "The Sheriff hosts these parties to assert his wealth, and peasants go out and beg to falsely assert poverty. They want to take every spare penny of the wealthy and become wealthy themselves, turning the rich into the poor. But we are smart enough to see that." Lacie shook her head and giggled.

"It's all mind games with you lot over here, isn't it?" He kissed her face again and let out a sigh of relief. She believed him. It had been a month since she had arrived and countless times she has seen suffering. So countless times Guy had to cover his own tracks – she did not deserve to see what monstrosities his actions created. She loved him, trusted him, he would not break that bond. He finally had, dare he say it – love. As their fingers interlaced, the minstrels cued up a new song. Pairs of nobles danced about and enjoyed the life of the evening as Gisborne charmed Lacie with jokes and little kisses. Robin was fuming.

He stormed from the foyer out to a corridor where Will Scarlett stood. They both took off their musician masks and spat in anger.

"It's disgusting." Robin growled. Will nodded, adding, "I can't believe that he would play this many tricks." Their Saracen companion joined the conversation as she slipped in from another doorway.

"How do you know they are tricks?" Djaq's innocent voice whispered. This brought up laughter in the men.

"Look at him," stated Will matter- of-factly, "Is that Gisborne?" Djaq placed a hand on his arm.

"But remember Marian? She brought out the good in him, too. He can change, and maybe he has."

"No." negated Robin. "I will not let him hurt her." And with that, he replaced his mask and rejoined the event. The song died down and the characters of the night all applauded the musicians. Bards began telling their tales and poems as the nobles all sat to rest. About half of them paid the performers any attention. The Sheriff, though, was not one of them. As the bard in the purple tights reached the peak of his emotional climb, the Sheriff of Nottingham stood and yelled for them to shut up.

"My lovely guests," he began with a small sneer, "I hope you know why we are gathered here. The importance of the theme of this feast is truly insurmountable. Congratulations to me!" He exclaimed as he tossed handfuls of money into the air. The room applauded. "Nobody," he continued, "can possibly have any better reason to celebrate." His chuckle subsided when Guy of Gisborne refuted him.

"I do." He claimed, bringing the Sheriff's grin to a stale grimace. Robin and his hidden men all turned their gaze to Gisborne, expecting the worst. Hood's heart sank to the floor when he saw Guy stand and bring Lacie to her feet as well.

"I hope," Guy began with a glow in his heart, "we can all send a toast to this wonderful young lady. She is nothing but pure, and generous, and kindhearted." The rage boiled inside of the outlaw. But he felt he was going to be sick the moment Sir Guy of Gisborne withdrew a ring from his side. "And, I hope, that she will one day be the Lady Gisborne." Robin's face crumbled as Lacie's ignited. "I want to present this to you, adorned in the red and white jaspers of love and gentleness, as a token of my love when I ask you to marry me." Robin couldn't stop shaking his head. It was wrong. It was all so wrong – Gisborne had taken Marian and now he was taking Lacie, too. As applause roared throughout the room, he slid the ring onto her finger. And Hood drew his sword.

"No!" he screamed, pushing through the crowd until the sword tip came near Guy's throat. "You will not take her, too." His voice was gutted and frail. Robin removed his mask and called his cohorts to attention to fight. "Leave her, Gisborne." He demanded. As Guy reached for his own weapon, Lacie blurted out.

"Are you out of your bleeding mind, Robin? What do you think you are doing?"

"Oh ho ho," the Sheriff nodded as he sipped his wine, "This is good. This is very good." Gisborne's sword knocked the tip of Robin's out of his face when Much and Will drew their own weapons.

"You took Marian from me. You took her love, and you took her life. You will not have her, too!" Hood was spitting in rage as his face burned red. Tears were welling up.

"Fight him, Gisborne," the Sheriff poked, "Claim the property that is rightfully yours." With a deep breath, Guy lunged forward and leaped the table before him, landing his weapon into the face of the outlaw. Party goers fled to the walls of the room as the dueling men formed their own arena. Robin's teammates were fighting off guardsmen as Lacie shrieked at the top of her lungs for them to stop. But the men continued, and with each swing and stab more passion was added, more years were remembered, and more grudges formed. Their own world was a battleground until it was shattered by a candelabra being flung between them.

Following its line, there Lacie stood in tears. She had stopped yelling, and all she mustered was the muttering of the word 'stop.' Propelled by anger she stomped towards Robin of Locksley and gave him a loud slap across the face. "This is the happiest bleeding day of my bloody life. If you have any plans to change that, I suggest you leave. Now!" She whacked his wrist next and made him drop the sword. The Sheriff was so delighted with the outcome he could barely sit still.

Lacie then turned and smacked the weapon from Gisborne's hand. "And you, Sir Guy," she bitterly snarled, "are a much better man than sinking to that." She struck across his face as well and promptly exited the room. Everyone stood in shock as Robin of Locksley and Sir Guy of Gisborne exchanged bewildered glances.


	7. Do You Care For Me?

_With every mistake, we must surely be learning. If we did not learn something every day, what would be the point of the sun rising at all?_ Lacie placed the feather back into her ink pot. She was far too unsettled by Robin's stunt at the gala to focus on writing back home, let alone do anything productive with her time. Her tears had dried and her anger had subsided, but her disappointment in her childhood friends was unyielding. Her orange hair had been let down and her suffocating dress had been thrown off in favor of a night gown – the evening had gone from wondrous to a disaster. But, at the end of the day, she still wore the ring Gisborne bestowed upon her. A knocking came from her door and at first she pretended to not be there at all by sitting silently. But the tapping repeated. Placing an old robe around her shoulders she opened the door.

Sir Guy of Gisborne stood without his pride at her door, wearing the same clothes from the event hours earlier. He was clearly troubled.

"My lady," he sighed, "I would like to apologize if I have in some way offended you." She put her finger to his lips to quiet him. She did not want an apology.

"A man who is not jealous is not in love." She told him softly as she exposed the jasper ring on her hand. She gently kissed him and held his forehead to hers, albeit she had to stand on her toes.

"I have something for you." Guy whispered to her as he took her hand into his. He led her to his own chambers and shut the door quietly, as if it were a secret that was not to be known. Gisborne gave her a grin as he lifted a flat box from his desk and presented it to her. "Open it."

She sat on the edge of his bed and gingerly removed the lid. Inside laid a royal blue night cloak made of silk – a true luxury in Nottinghamshire. She ran her fingers over it and gasped in disbelief.

"So you don't feel the need to run to my quarters half naked again." Gisborne smirked, sitting next to her. She grabbed his face and gave him a passionate kiss in excitement. "I hope I am forgiven." He added.

"I'm not angry." Lacie laughed. "Not at you. I just – you are not the sort of man I thought I would ever see hold a sword to another man's throat." This statement hit Sir Guy like a battering ram. But a few weeks ago he had maimed a farmer and left him deaf and mute. He had killed countless people, innocent and not, and he has had to remove blood from his gloves more times than he could count. But she was oblivious. His sweet, naïve, gentle Lacie had no idea how far he would go to get what he wanted. Cost meant nothing to him.

"Never." He lied. "But when an outlaw threatens the life of someone I care for," he took her hand, "I can be a bit irrational."

"Outlaw?" she questioned, pulling her hand away, "Surely not, that was Robin of Locksley." Guy kissed her lips to hush her. His eyes told the girl that now was not the time to discuss Robin Hood – it was far too late to begin that conversation. "I couldn't wait." She said after some time. "When you put this ring on my hand… I just imagined we would be wed like that Lord in Derbyshire. And I thought to myself, 'how wonderful will it be to be Lady Gisborne?' I mean, at least I will have a fancy title." The lovers chuckled as Guy ran the back of his hand along the contours of her face.

"Do you care for me?" he whispered in a near plea. Lacie placed her hand atop his.

"Sir Guy of Gisborne – I love you." He pulled her close for another long kiss. Searching through each of his memories he could never recall hearing that – not even from Marian. He held her at arm's length to drink in her sight yet again. As she sat up straight, the night cloak slid from her shoulders and, as she reached to put it back on, he grabbed her hand to stop her, whispering: "Leave it." And so she did, sitting as naked as she had been on her first night in Nottingham. As they sat there holding each other, Lacie noticed the candle at the bedside. It was nearly melted to nothing – the night was so late and the morning becoming young. She pulled away and brushed the hair from his face. "I suppose this is where I bid you goodnight." She planted a kiss on his forehead and made her way to the door, but as she placed her hand on the handle, Gisborne stopped her.

"You don't have to wait." He suddenly stated. Lacie turned to see him as he gradually rose from the bed and strode towards her. Guy stopped himself far away enough to extend his hand towards her. "If you cannot wait to go be married, you don't have to," he persisted, "It is within the law that we can be blessed at the church and unified before God the day after we –" he stumbled over the words, "choose to consummate the marriage." Lacie bit her lip and looked down.

"And what would your mother think of that?" she joked. But Guy did not laugh. He went to her and held her waist.

"I want you to be my wife." He implored. Cupping his face in her hands, she asked him if he loved her. His answer: "More than I ever thought possible." Lacie rubbed her nose to his and walked past him, gently sitting on his bed and leaning back to the headboard. From this moment on, they needed no words. Carefully he sat next to her and placed her legs across his, running his fingers through her hair. He leaned in and kissed her softer than he himself thought he ever could. And until the sun rose, every kiss, every touch, and every smile was the loudest "I love you" they could have told each other.


	8. The Color of Gisborne

Warm sunlight fell through the window and bathed Sir Guy's chambers in the glow. The dew of the early morning on the window pane had subsided and became victim to the near afternoon balminess. Lacie could not remember the last time she had slept so late, nor could she imagine a better place to be. Curled up tight in her betrothed's blankets, she slowly opened her eyes to begin a new day. In a sultry whisper she said Guy: "I wish we could just stay here all day." Lazily she listened but received no answer; rolling over sluggishly she found no husband. Only empty sheets and the faint smell of his perfume. Sitting up, she looked about and called his name to only silence. Getting out of the bed, Lacie nearly stumbled over when the loud crash hit her ears. The girl fumbled a robe onto her shoulders and hurried to the window. She could not believe what was happening.

The gate to Nottingham castle had been compromised, allowing a trail of peasants to flood into the courtyard with vicious thoughts and inhuman assaults on the guards. She now knew where Gisborne had gone. But what she did not know was what to do – surely she could be no help on the battlefield, but watching the attack like it were some theatrical production seemed wicked. Her best bet, then, was to find out what was happening. After throwing on a gown and having the social courtesy to at least some-what pull up her hair, the girl from Leeds ran down each flight of stone stairs to the ground floor. At each person she passed, Lacie opened an inquiry into the disturbance, but the people either did not know or, most often, ignored her. The girl was a ball of emotions by the time she reached the main chambers where the Sheriff sat. Lacie felt irritation at the rudeness of the guards, the insanity of the commoners, and the confusion of the whole matter. A few officers were replacing their halberds and swords back to the armory, filtering in and out as she tromped up to Nottingham's leader. She concluded that the siege must have ended.

"What is happening to this place?" she cried upon entry. The Sheriff's bland expression seemed inappropriately calm in a time of such crisis. With snake like posture he stood and placed a hand on the back of her neck.

"This, my darling," he coolly grinned, "is what happens when people forget their places and try to take the privileges of others." His sly response was too vague for her to understand. Before she could question him, Sir Guy entered with a thunderous scowl on his face, sword in his hand. The blade, and his hands, were red with blood.

"The survivors are ready for their punishment." Gisborne said with a near giddiness as he raised an eyebrow. Lacie rushed to him.

"Guy, what in the world –"

"What are you doing here?" he cut her off. She let out a soft laugh to convince herself that Guy's bitter tone was a joke.

"I heard the commotion and saw all those men fighting, I had to know what –"

"You should not have left your chambers." He spat with his chin low.

"I was not aware I was a prisoner here –"

"It is not safe for someone of your sort." He chopped another of her sentences.

"My sort – what, because I am a woman? I can help heal these men!"

"Go to your chambers, now. I will fetch you when the issue is resolved." Guy growled through clenched teeth. Her response was quick, "Surely you must be kidding!"

"Yes, Gisborne, surely." The Sheriff placed a hand on each of their shoulders and looked the female up and down, "This… pet that you have acquired is quite disobedient. Surely, we can devise a way to tighten her leash?" His devilish grin returned. Guy's hatred then shot to his superior.

"She will not be punished." He defended, and then added after a breath, "It is her first offence."

"Well, she should at least see how the insubordinate live, don't you agree my good man? She will come to the courtyard with us." And with that he strode off in a sickening joy. Killing peasants always put a spring in the little man's step. Gisborne put a hand to his lover's back and led her out into the piazza where, to her shock, a dozen or so empty nooses were suspended, their fibers thirsting to hear the snap of a neck. Standing beside the Sheriff, Lacie looked up into Guy's blue eyes, the ones that were filled with so much love the night before, but the same ones that were now caught up in monstrous delight. He glanced back at her and paid her no mind as a handful of rebellious peasants were lead out to their final event, hands tied, souls destroyed. The Sheriff half-heartedly mumbled some words off of a scroll as each man got a rope slipped around his throat.

"These men, in conspiracy to the Crown and the authority of Nottinghamshire are to be hanged, blah blah blah, insurgency, yaddah yaddah yaddah, led by Robin Hood. My favorite part, they are followers of an outlaw! And we all know the fate of outlaws." With that he crumpled the doctrine and threw it to the ground, his smirk infecting Gisborne. The offenders had their heads covered in burlap sacks so the end would be a surprise. Lacie turned and clutched the black leather jacket of Gisborne, pleading to him.

"Please, Guy. No, surely they can just be imprisoned." He placed a gloved hand gently onto her neck and told her to be quiet. The Sheriff snapped his fingers and, in the blink of an eye, the floorboards dropped. As the snapping of necks rang through the air, Lacie buried her face into Guy's chest. Feet dangled; a few men struggled until they were out of breath while the rest died in a moment. Before retiring into the castle, the Sheriff leaned over to Gisborne's fiancée.

"Be a good little girl." He hissed. Lacie's eyes began to fill with tears of remorse as she heard a young man's voice call from behind her.

"Gisborne!" it shouted. "Know that the torture you inflicted upon my father will not go unpunished! You monster!" She felt him cock his head to the side, a command to his men to control the disorder. The man she loved held her head close to his chest and rested his chin on top of her skull after kissing it lightly. But how? Sir Guy of Gisborne she knew could never relish violence and slaughter, and yet this morning seemed to build his mood up. Could Robin have been right about him?

Guy had escorted her back to her chambers and ordered a pot of tea be brought to her. She still felt dizzyingly numb from the whirlwind these past few days had brought; within the last twenty four hours she had consummated her marriage with a man who seemed to have a completely different face when he held a sword in his hand. That part of him, however, had vanished underneath his skin yet again. She sat vacantly as Gisborne ran his hands over the top of her head and through her hair. He kept telling her to relax – but she was not high strung. She was disoriented. Guy gently kissed behind her ear.

"You act as though you have never seen a man die for his crimes." He chuckled. Her whispered response: "I haven't." Guy's hands stopped and he crossed to lean on the desk across from her, arms folded. "You have never seen a man hang?" Lacie minutely shook her head.

"In Leeds, a person is hanged perhaps once a month or two, and I do not attend its exhibition. There are few criminals, and most of them are punished by a court of law." Her gaze drifted up to meet Gisborne's. "The law is respected there." Guy smirked and rubbed his nose.

"The people will settle. It is but a fad of insurrection that shall come to pass. They will learn to respect the law." Lacie's jaw tightened.

"They rebel because they do not support the law. The people of Leeds are satisfied with the rules of their lives – they are comfortable with what is asked of them. Here in Nottinghamshire, restrictions are forced upon the people that they do not approve of."

"That is the way of a monarchy." The dark haze began to fill his eyes once more, and for the second time Lacie felt a guilt because of his frustration with her. But she continued.

"People cannot be governed without giving the consent to be governed. _That_ is why you are being defied." Slam! Guy banged his hand on the desk and shut his eyes. Lacie was immediately hushed. After eternal moments, Gisborne looked at her.

"I apologize." He brushed by her and made his way to the center of her chambers, admiring the carvings on the wooden bolsters of her bed as he pondered aloud. "Have I not given you everything you have asked for?"

"Guy, I have never asked a thing of you – "

"And yet I have given you everything you desire." He turned to face her with a waiver in his voice. Because they were alone, he allowed himself to step aside from his pride. "I have given you silks, and jewels, and gowns, and soaps, and my words of love – I do not know what more you require of me."

"Guy, I require nothing of you!"

"Then why do you still pull from me? You do not obey when I ask your silence, and you provide advice that is undesired." She looked at the floor, now realizing the high value pride held for her betrothed. His status was everything besides her, and she had just wrestled it. Lacie stood and meandered to the struggling man in black, and pressing her forehead to his she let out a heavy breath.

"Sir Guy of Gisborne," she whispered, "I apologize for my disobedience. I will learn my place behind you as you wish." Guy slowly shut his eyes and held her close.

"Then you will ride with me now, to the perish, to be married?" in a soft voice she replied: "Yes, my lord."


	9. Angel of Death

Every morning was more exciting than ever. Lacie would purposefully tie her dresses on slower, pin her hair more prudently, and wash herself at a measured pace – all of this to build up the savor of the moment. Finally, every day, she could place a veil in her hair. This, to the Christian woman, symbolized her marriage to Sir Guy of Gisborne.

Of course, she heard the whispers. Women hated her. Men thought she was no more than a bedroom trophy. To them, Guy was no more than a face of the law and he had no room for a happy marriage – at least this is what she took the rumors to be. Often times, she would walk through the streets of Nottingham with her elbow interlocked into her husbands and they would spend the morning having a lovely chat. But she still heard them. As they would approach groups of people, the hushed conversation would die down and peasants simply stared. Surely, she thought, they were just jealous of her jump in status. For Sir Guy was a noble man, a kind man, a man that woke her every morning by entering her chambers and kissing her. She did not know him to be a fist of terror that the people recognized from miles away. Today, though, that would change.

As he had warned her last night, Guy's duties took him early in the morning, leaving his wife to drag herself out of bed. Jewels dangling and veil in place, she departed her chambers and sauntered downstairs. It was a lovely spring morning with a balminess that promised beautiful flowers and happy people – a perfect time to visit the market square and get to know the people of Nottingham, now that she could introduce herself as Lady Gisborne. The Sheriff seemed so preoccupied with the affairs in the Holy Land that Lacie thought it may be her place to reconnect with the Englishmen just outside their door. At the gate to the city stood the leaders of the county – her husband and his boss. In light of the charming weather, she ignored the Sheriff's grimace and approached the men with a smile.

"Good morrow." She cheered, resting a hand on Guy's arm. He turned with a smile and nodded.

"Good morrow." The Sheriff said nothing with words, but left a glare in Gisborne's direction. Lacie ignored him, as she had grown accustomed to doing.

"I am going to market if you would like anything, either of you. And after that I plan to ride to Locksley, so –"

"Do not go to Locksley. It is tax collection day; there will be nothing of interest to you there." Guy intervened.

"Oh," she replied thoughtfully, "then perhaps -" Guy placed a hand on her cheek.

"Please, just remain in Nottingham for the afternoon. We can go for a ride at the end of the week."

"Yes, my Lord." Was her answer, and after giving him a small kiss she left to shop for small trinkets. As she cruised the streets wearing her best grin, the only looks she got in return were of stone. No one wished her a good morrow, and the only times they showed their teeth were in disgust, not joy. Perhaps the morning was not boding well for sales…

Eventually she arrived at her favorite booth in the town. Every day sat a little old woman with jewelry strung about her. The most beautiful bronzes and silvers always covered her tables, and many times Guy returned to Lacie with gifts from this very stand. On this pleasant morning she was caught by a golden set of earrings with red stones encrusting the rim. She approached the woman gently.

"Good morrow," she beamed. The woman just stared at her. "Do you make all of these yourself, or do your children help you?" Still without an answer, Lacie ran her fingers over the jeweled decorations. Abruptly, the woman slapped her hand and spit on her feet.

"We do not serve the wife of the devil here." She sneered.

"I beg pardon," Lacie cried in bewilderment, "I attend service in the house of God every Sunday." The woman simply shook her head and spit again at the Lady of Gisborne.

"Then you should know better than to consort with sin itself. I wish the angel of death upon you and your children!" She had heard enough. With a hardened face of discontent, Lacie walked off to return home. The people of the town were acting unusual and she had had enough, but they were not finished just yet.

"Oi, love." A man stuck his arm out and stopped her in her tracks. Attempting to go around, two more men stood behind him. She looked to notice many peasants beginning to surround her, several of whom had alcohol on their breath. "What's a pretty toy like you doing walking these streets, eh? They say it can be dangerous." He slowly slipped a dagger from his pocket and stepped closer. "Especially for those who think they can get by without punishment." She looked around as her nerves began to swell – more men in the hoard were armed.

"I am afraid you are mistaken." The words quickly ran from her lips, but the man just laughed.

"You think Gisborne can parade around and take what he likes? We ought to have the same right." Jeering began. "He seemed to have liked my brothers tongue, took the liberty to cut it out nice and slow like before claiming his ears -"

"Surely you are mistaken, please. Discontinue your drinking and let me go." Another man piped up.

"He killed my sister and her children."

"My baby cries because he is hungry!"

"Gisborne has taken my husband to prison to be tortured for no reason!"

The accusations began to swirl and envelope the street. Lacie could no longer organize her thoughts as hands began to snatch gold pins from her hair and tug at the fabric of her clothing.

"It's time he learned his lesson." Snickered the man with the dagger. He grabbed her by the back of the head and leaned her back to openly expose her pale neck. He drug the blade slowly from her ear to her clavicle, gently enough not to draw blood, but close enough to instill terror. "I think we should start with the tongue to keep you from screaming."

"No, please, I beg you, I have done nothing." Her senses were hyper sensitive as the sun began to beat down and the complaints became screeches. The man cut the golden necklace from her neck and eyed it carefully.

"I think I should give this to my brother, a token of proof that Gisborne has paid for his crimes." He then placed the cutting edge at the bottom of her neck. As more men grabbed Lacie to hold her still, the man drew a deep cut from her clavicle down between her breasts. Her red blood began to soak into the fabric of his sleeve and her dress. "Lookie here mates," he grinned, "We have a bleeder."

The man was suddenly grabbed and Lacie looked up to see a knife to his throat. Sir Guy of Gisborne stood with the attacker in his hands, the man's life up to his fancy. The crowd quickly began to disperse as guards seized the fleers. "I believe we do." Gisborne whispered as he traced an identical gash down the man's chest. "Now, I do think you owe the Lady of Gisborne an apology." The man spat a thousand sorries but Guy was left unsatisfied; he nicked the criminal's cheek and shoved him to a guard. "This conversation will continue once I have decided you have been locked away and starved long enough." Immediately Guy turned to his wife, whose hands were trembling. He gently took a gloved hand and wiped some of the blood from her chest. "I will take you to the Sheriff's doctor."

"I'm fine." The words finally came out of her. Gisborne kissed her temple and led her back into the fortified walls of safety. As he blotted the last of the blood away from her skin, Sir Guy remained silent. The wound was cleaned and treated as best as possible, but the mark still left a sharp pain within Guy. The people feared him enough to obey his rule, that was certain – but his marriage had given them a pawn with which to attack him. His fingers lightly touched the mar and led down it, resting at the base of it between Lacie's breasts. Guy looked into her eyes with deep apologies. "The horrible things they said," she told him, "They were on about you murdering people and torturing them, stealing money and food, it was preposterous."

"You should never have found yourself in that situation. I will ensure your safety at all costs -"

"I'm okay." She smiled. Lacie placed her hand on top of his. "But I want you to come with me to mass tomorrow." Guy shook his head as if to dismiss the idea from the table.

"I am far too busy to - "

"It is Ash Wednesday." She cut in, "And that woman…. She set a curse for our house, summoned an angel of death for our children. We must go to the parish and receive the blessing of the bishop for death to pass us over."

"You think if a man smears ashes onto you, it will make a difference in what that witch said?" Lacie sat frozen and stood by her point.

"I believe in three things, Guy: God and his glory, civility and duty, and the fact that I love you." Reluctantly, Gisborne agreed. But as his wife planned a day at the church, he planned a violent vengeance.


	10. A Perfect Wife

"Tell me it is a coincidence!" The Sheriff launched a goblet to the hearth, his fury at its peak. Guy rubbed his hand over his beard and repeated himself.

"I do not know." His words were precise and deliberate. It was taking every cell of his body to restrain him from releasing his temper onto the leader of Nottingham.

"Did you not tell me she knew Hood? Hmmm? And yet you will stand here and defend that wretched - "

"Years ago, as did I." Guy had to shut his eyes and catch his breath before muttering, "My Lord. There is no way she has betrayed me. Nor you. Every story I have fed her about Hood she has taken as truth, she blames him for the mildest of crimes." The Sheriff sniffed. His heart warmed a bit to know that Lady Gisborne was so blind – she believed anything her husband said. He sniffed and tapped his fingers on the table.

"Correct me, Gisborne, if I am wrong. But every day, your little servant girl - "

"She is my wife." Gisborne growled. The Sheriff paid him to attention.

"She tries to leave Nottingham to go for a ride through the fields, no?" Guy slowly nodded but did not look at the man, "And yet, for the past two weeks I cannot recall ever seeing her out of her chambers. And on top of that – you will love this – Every evening at midnight a hooded man visits her chambers. I heard word of it this morning… A coincidence?" He then mouthed the word "no." "I am dying to hear your excuse. Because you see, I can only believe that she is up to no good."

"I have been out in Nettlestone for the past fortnight fighting your battle to quiet the rebellion!" Gisborne desperately worked to collect himself, but even the patrolling guards could see that he had heard enough. The Sheriff snaked his way next to his henchman and hissed in his ear.

"All I know, Gisborne, is that every man we have put near Sherwood has been found. There is no way Hood and his men are simply stumbling upon each of our troops. Either you get to the bottom of it, or I send the jailer to whip her… your choice."

Sir Guy's steps were impending, even from down the corridors it plain to see that the man was enraged. He stormed into the dungeon and, without a word, made his way to his favorite little project. In the back, huddled in a damp corner, sat the man who had cut his wife. Three months may have passed, but his punishment was still continuing. Gisborne slammed his hand on the bars of his cell to wake him. He dipped the end of the fire poker into the coals and let it begin smoldering as he swung open the gate, pulling off his black gloves to begin the dirty work. The man was muttering prayers and begging for mercy but Guy had no interest in his words. Kicking him, he demanded the man stand. Doing as he was told, the man prepared for the same cycle – Gisborne would come down whenever it so suited his fancy to torture him within an inch of his life. As soon as the wounds began to heal, the process repeated. He was unaware, however, that this time, Guy would not be able to restrain himself from killing him.

As the sun began to set, the man in black went upstairs, finished with his hobby. It was time to get to the bottom of it. Without even a knock, he entered Lacie's chambers. She sat at her desk, feather in hand, and did not notice his entrance until he slammed the door shut. Startled, she turned to see her husband brooding, arms crossed. In a fit of panic she gathered the papers from her desk and placed them under a large book. She stood and crossed over to Gisborne.

"Guy! I am so glad you have returned! I did not think your trip would last so long. But in all fairness, a warning would have been nice." With a grin Lacie threw her arms around him, but he did not budge. Guy waited until she removed herself.

"I wrote to you three times." Was his answer. Her face fell and she became clearly nervous as he awaited a response.

"You are right, I'm sorry." She said quietly, "I suppose I am just overwhelmed in joy by your return." Guy looked away and shook his head.

"Everybody has secrets." He bitterly began, "I do. The Sheriff, the jailer, Robin Hood – you." Gisborne darted his eyes back to his wife and she narrowed her gaze in confusion. "It is one thing to keep a secret from another man. But it is a whole matter entirely to deceive your husband."

"You're bloody mad." She whispered. With one strong step he lunged towards her until their noses nearly touched.

"Am I?" he asked, "Or did I just catch you sooner than you expected?" She could barely form the words to ask what he was talking about. "I know of your visitor." Lacie's eyes grew. "Oh yes, my darling little pet, I am fully aware of Hood's calling on you!" He grabbed her by the back of the head and held her face directly to his. "This marriage, this is how you get my secrets? It is how you feed your precious Robin Hood?"

"You are hurting me." Lacie begged.

"Just as your lies have hurt me." He spat at her. Guy loosened his grip as tears began to form in her eyes and he placed his hand on her cheek. "If you tell me the truth, I will not hurt you. I will keep you safe from punishment." Her breaths became broken as she stared into the vicious eyes of her husband and she struggled to form words.

"I have not seen Robin - "

"Swear to me!" Guy screamed.

"I swear! Please, I swear…" Lacie began to break down in tears as Guy pushed himself away. He walked to the window and sneered at her.

"Stop crying and tell me the truth." Lady Gisborne collapsed into her desk chair and composed her breath, refusing to look at the looming figure in black.

"He works for the church in Locksley. His name is Luke, Luke Morahan. I have paid him to come visit me."  
>"In order to absolve this marriage?" Guy accused.<p>

"Guy, please, he is a scribe!" she screamed. Pulling herself together, she continued. "I received your letters from Nettlestone. I – for the past few months, I have asked Alice to read me the letters I have received from home. Alice, that chamber maid? She is a very bright young girl… but I did not want her to read me the letters you sent because I knew they were far more personal than anything my sister would send."

"So you chose to hide them away?" he asked, nodding towards the book under which lied several notes.

"I hired the scribe to help me." Gisborne looked down and organized the ideas in his head. Looking up he softly asked, "You cannot read? But I have seen you pen letters." Lacie pulled at the fabric on her dress in embarrassment.

"I – I only know basic words. It takes me hours to write to my sister and even then I can only say if I am well or ill. Guy, it's embarrassing. The servants here in Nottingham can read me my own letters and I haven't an idea how to write them back… In Leeds I never had reason to learn."

"Why would you not tell me? I would gotten you the best tutors -"

"Because I am ashamed." Lacie laid her head in her hands. "I am the wife of Sir Guy of Gisborne, and I cannot decipher a word that he sends to me. You deserve a perfect wife, and that's all I am trying to be." Guy wiped his face and went to her. He kneeled and put his hands on her knees, then laid his forehead on her lap.

"You, Lady Lacie of Gisborne, are already more than I could ever ask for. I am the one who should be ashamed." He let out a long sigh and looked into her eyes. "I should never have doubted you. And I should never have hurt you. I beg your forgiveness… I had returned to some unsettling suspicions and I had to know." Lacie leaned over a bit further and kissed Guy's lips very softly.

"You are forgiven, my love." Gisborne ran his fingers lightly over her mouth as he spoke.

"I have also been told you never leave your chambers for your morning rides."

"Lately I find myself too ill in the mornings to go riding." She placed a hand on his face and smiled. Guy did not pick up on the hint.

"Ill? Are you alright, have you seen the Sheriff's doctor?" The worry in his voice made Lacie softly laugh.

"I am better than I have ever been." She assured her husband. "But another reason I must learn to read is because I could not bear the shame our family would hold if I could not even teach our son." Sir Guy remained frozen for a few moments. Slowly placing a hand to her stomach, he asked, "You are with child?" She slightly nodded and produced a wide grin that spread to Guy. "But do not start a fit about who's it is." She chuckled. Gisborne kissed his wife and laid his head back into her lap. He began to dream of what their child would grow to become, while she pondered who the sadistic man was that she had married.


	11. Absurdity

"I honestly cannot believe you. You sit here and you still defend him!" Robin shook his head as he paced around the room. "People hate you, Lacie. They spit at you, just because of who you married out of foolishness, does that not tell you something about his character?" She had heard enough.

"Yes, yes I did marry Guy out of foolishness, I admit – because no person in love is truly sensible." The outlaw rolled his eyes and prepared a new attack. "For months I have sat here, Robin, listening to you tear down my husband and watching you fight him and break his laws –"

"His laws are absurd!" Robin stamped his foot and stared into Lacie's green eyes. He had no idea who she was anymore – Gisborne had, in fact, taken her.

"If you stop breaking the laws then the Sheriff will be more lenient. They are forced to make harsh sentences because you and your men keep running around killing everybody and taking -"

"Killing?" Hood's voice raised a few notes in shock, "Is that what Gisborne tells you I do? Kill people? The only time someone dies at my hand is if there is no other way to protect someone innocent. Unlike your wonderful husband, I have no need to wash my hands of blood."

"Robin please stop -"

"He is the only one who rides into villages and kills people, cuts out their tongues, and takes their money. I help them recover from the damage Gisborne does!"

"I have heard enough! I swear to God, Robin, I will call him in here right now." He covered his face and let out a deep breath. "Look, I know the laws are a bit tight and a lot of people do hang, but it's a measure against outlaws. We both know that's true. Now you have to realize how ridiculous it is for you to come in here and keep making these childish claims out of jealousy and spite."

"Jealousy?" Robin began to laugh. "What does Gisborne have that I could ever want?"

"A title. A castle, money, a wife that you used to want, a child -"

"So it is more than a rumor." Lacie held his gaze as they stood in silence. Hood scoffed, "You married Gisborne after I said to stay away. Now you are pregnant and defending his cruelty. Lacie – I don't know who you are anymore!"

"I am done with this conversation now." She calmly replied. Robin took a step forward and pointed a finger in her face.

"Go with him on a trip to Locksley. You will see the fear people have of him and the scars he gave them, and then you will see." A knock came to the chamber door and, with one last glance, Robin departed out the window as Sir Guy entered. He feasted his eyes upon his stunning wife – her long red hair, her soft and pale skin, her growing stomach. He kissed her softly then sat on her bed.

"I feel it has been ages since I have had your company." Lacie joined her husband and laid her head on his shoulder. "I trust you two are getting along nicely." Panic crashed upon her – did he know of Robin's visits? But as Guy placed a hand on her stomach, relief came. It had only recently become plainly apparent that she was in fact carrying a child.

"I don't tend to get along well with anyone that makes me gain weight." She flatly stated in response. Guy laughed and laid down, pulling Lacie with him. After peaceful minutes of silence, she couldn't bear the fizzing in her brain. "You are going to Locksley tomorrow, aren't you?" Without a second thought he replied.

"Yes, my darling."

"Wonderful. I bet you would appreciate a bit of company for the ride." Guy slowly opened his eyes and looked over to her; her youthful face was covered in excitement and begging. He ran the back of his hand down her cheek and whispered gently to her.

"I am there to collect taxes. There is nothing for you tomorrow in Locksley." He kissed her forehead and left it at that, turning back to close his eyes and repose in the comfort of her presence. But Lacie couldn't shake the persistence of Robin from her mind.

"Well, I just thought we could tell the people of Nottinghamshire the good news. About the baby." With reluctance, Guy swung his head back towards her. "Alice told me that there is a rumor of it going round – maybe we could show them."

"It is not their business." Gisborne answered without missing a beat. Lacie's face fell a bit. How would she be able to prove Hood wrong? Guy chuckled and kissed her forehead again. "You make it impossible to tell you no."

"So save the trouble and just say yes." She chirped. Guy ran the idea through his brain and finally agreed.

"Okay – but _only_ if you promise me you won't disturb anything. We are there on business for the Sheriff first. I don't want to hear his fuss about you disrupting tax collection." Lacie's smile grew. A horse ride with her love to the village to share their news of a child, what a perfect day tomorrow would be.

"When have I ever been trouble to you, Guy?" she sweetly asked. She was not expecting him to laugh in response.

"When have you not?" he whispered. She glared as he lightly kissed her lips. So there they laid in silence, holding each other with soft kisses. This was the Sir Guy of Gisborne she married – what on earth was everyone else making such a noise about? It was impossible to imagine him having any taste for viciousness. In all honesty, how could anyone imagine the tall and dark man removing his gloves to fight an innocent farmer, or drawing a dagger to a civilian, or cutting tongues? Absurdity. Jealousy. That's all it was. That's all it could be – wasn't it?


	12. We Are Not Making Demands

No matter what she thought, Lacie could not shake the fizzing in the deepest pit of her stomach. It felt as if she was excited, but she somehow knew it was a foreshadow for the tragedy that would unfold today. But how could she think such a thing? This was the love of her life and everything she was proud of. At what point did rumors begin dictating what she thought of Guy? The Sheriff's right hand man slowed his black stallion to a halt at the entrance to Locksley and slid off to the left. He extended a gloved hand and dismounted his pregnant wife. Today, they both feared, she would discover the truth about the man in black.

The neighs from soldiers' horses overrode the hoofs pressing into the soil as they each stopped to do their duties in the village. Guy had so wished he could have the townsfolk play along for the day and make nice, but it was unrealistic, they had the same amount of despise for him as they did every other day he came to swipe money from their filthy palms. He had stopped staying in his manor in Locksley ever since he has wed in order to postpone her discovering his past. In this moment, though, he found that he didn't mind if she learned what he had done before – excuses could be made. But anything he had done since their meeting he was fully accountable for. To his credit, he had vowed to himself to become a better man for their child. Unfortunately he was not known as a man of his word.

The people of Locksley emerged from their houses and placed their children behind them out of habit as Gisborne pulled his gloves up tighter and put on his business face. Hopefully, if he kept a hard stare, they wouldn't be brave enough to challenge him on this day. As the Sheriff's men prepared the wooden crates for the crowns, Lacie trotted forward to the first family she saw. Guy kept a watchful eye on her every move.

"Good morrow." She smiled at a young brunette boy. Rather than a child-like reply he simply stared vacantly at his father. She cleared her throat and tried again, "I'm excited to finally meet the people of Locksley. It's been breaking my heart to marry your lord and never see your precious faces." The boy still gave no mark of acknowledgment to the woman. She wondered for a brief moment if this is what parenthood was going to be like. The father put on a false smile and greeted her.

"I hope it is not too late to congratulate you on your marriage, Lady Gisborne. We all sincerely hope your husband is happy." His meaning seemed to be lost on her but she didn't notice her mistake. Nodding, she placed a hand on her swollen belly and moved on to another group of people. Rounds were made around the homes and business stands at a quicker pace than usual. The blood is Sir Guy itched under his skin, begging him to go home. Lacie seemed to be enjoying herself, though, he recognized. She was the most positive person he had ever known. Approaching a farmer, he had a flashback to the last one he had maimed months ago. He hadn't seen that man in quite some time… it was very likely he had died. Trying to find positivity, he was smug that it was an easy way to hide evidence.

"I believe your debt to Nottingham this round is sixty crowns." His baritone voice was firm but not menacing.

"All we have is fifty three." The man muttered, averting his gaze. Gisborne closed his eyes and attempted to settle himself before continuing.

"It is not acceptable to fall short every time." His patience was thinner than the skin on the sun worn farmer's face, even after he wrestled to contain it.

"Sir Guy," the man's short wife butt in, "I just had a child and he is always so hungry… surely you can give us pardon. You yourself are soon to be a parent." Her dark brown eyes wound over to Lacie's rounded stomach as she laughed with one of the local cloth dyers. Seeing her smile washed a bit of calm over Guy, but he couldn't let Locksley continue to undermine the Sheriff, not with Prince John breathing down their necks all the time. He noticed one of the farmer's boys holding a shining piece of coin and immediately fell victim to his greed.

"I believe this makes fifty four." He sneered, grabbing the child's wrist and prying the crown from his grubby grip. The child put up a small struggle but was dejected by his parents. Like always, the man in black got his way. "Don't you dare steal from England again, you filthy peasant." He spat.

Lacie wanted so badly to tell her husband how much she was enjoying the people of Nottinghamshire, but she didn't want to interfere with official business. After all, she shouldn't have really even come. Glancing over to her love, she saw him bent over speaking to a child. What a great father he will be, she just knew it all through her humors and down to her bones.

Out of nowhere, a crowd of men ran from between houses and began throwing guards to the ground. Guy, out of instinct, drew his blade and began to counter them. Lacie, out of instinct, ran as far violence as she could. It wasn't until she got her head around the surprise that she realized what was happening. There he was, Robin of Locksley, kicking a royal guard into another, making room for Much to strike an attack on another enemy. It was an ambush of outlaws, no doubt here to take the rightful taxes of the crown. And yet, the townsfolk were rejoicing? An armored man came and quickly led Lacie back to the horses to protect her from the insurgence. But then it all fell far from routine.

Seeing this act, Little John ran to protect her. A pregnant woman being taken by the Sheriff? It was a new low, he thought. He pushed past Djaq and swung his stick into the face of the guard. Lacie shrieked in panic as John wrapped his long arm around her waist. She barely even heard Robin crying for his men to retreat as Little John raised her high above the moist ground.

"Move out!" Robin yelled again, ushering his band of outlaws to the fringe of trees that lined the satellite village. In the dense green they could hide and regroup. Will, Allan, and the others filed out into the lush with John heading up the back, Lady Gisborne in his grasp. Guy was so distracted from the skirmish that his thoughts fell away from his wife, and it wasn't until he frantically searched the village that he yelled her name in anguish, realizing Robin had taken all he could. Was it poetic justice for the death of Marian? It didn't matter. He would get her back, and he would have his revenge.

A hoard of armored guards came storming through the trees to find the delinquent. But this kidnapper was far more familiar with the terrain; the horse's hooves trampled every leaf and brushed away each branch in the way. The outlaws weaseled between saplings and quickly lost the tail. They then threw themselves into their humble hideout and let out a breath of air. They had escaped without a hitch. Although they did not recover any money to redistribute, Robin felt sure they had done well; at the very least their statement was made. John was the last to arrive and he set Lacie down while simultaneously using his left hand to close the door to the bungalow. Much noticed the visitor and, in his typically atypical behavior, swatted his master repeatedly until Robin turned to see what the fit was all about.

"Are you kidding me?" he hissed through bewildered teeth. He was so stunned he wasn't even sure if his thoughts were all being vocalized. Proudly, John stamped his staff to the floorboards and put his free hand to his hip that was unusually high from the ground.

"Gisborne's men were trying to cart this poor thing off to Nottingham. I knew he was sick before, but taking pregnant women to pay for debt? I think I would much rather he return to maiming." Several people began to speak in confused tones at the same time, but Lacie's high voice popped from the cloud of the rest. The Lady of Gisborne created a chain of profanity and threats of what her husband would do to each of them.

"I thought Gisborne never hurt a soul." Robin arrogantly stated. She was about to beat the grin off his face until Little John came up to them.

"Yeah well that's unless someone kidnaps his wife! He will probably kill you, and I just might let him." This make the outlaw leader chuckle a bit. He put a hand on her shoulder and she jerked away. Allan began laughing so hard he almost fell from his seat.

"Mate, you stole Lady Gisborne… this is priceless."

"I'll say." Will snorted, looking the redhead up and down, "You do realize what Gisborne will do to get her back? The Sheriff will have to do at least some things we demand."

"We are not making demands." Robin negated, turning only his body to Will.

"Robin," Much slowly stated, turning the cogs in his head, "Will has a point. We could at least free the prisoners Gisborne has now. If he is about to have a child, the least we could do is get a period of good before hell breaks loose and his spawn roams the planet-"

"Speaking about my husband is one thing, but my unborn child? I will see outlaws wiped from Nottinghamshire, have no doubt. Guy will –"

"Well it's not our fault you went off and married the most insane and horrible man in England!" Lacie just shook her head. It was all so disappointing that outlaws could stray so far away from the good in the world that they blame others for their misfortune.

"Guy is good man. A great man." She began, but Hood put up his hand.

"I don't want to have this talk," he said carefully, "Lacie, this is a misunderstanding, you know that. I will have you back to Nottingham by nightfall. No one here means you or your child any harm… but maybe it's good that we have a chance to air some things out while you're here." Her face screwed up a bit.

"Look," Robin couldn't quite find the words to put it delicately, "I have seen things Gisborne has done to people when they disagree or defy him. I am not saying he has ever laid a finger on you – yet. But we have also seen how he… well, he has a history with children." Robin looked to his gang and all of their faces fell. They remembered poor baby Seth, the illegitimate child that Gisborne had abandoned in the woods to die; but none of them had the hearts to tell Lacie that story. "I know that you have this headful of ideas about us being bloodthirsty bandits, but I don't want to get into that. Push it aside, Lace, and think of me as Robin from Locksley. All I want to do is be sure that you and your baby are safe from Gisborne and the Sheriff and anyone else." After a moment of silence, she placed both hands on her developing stomach.

"This baby is the best thing that has ever happened to him. You know, he used to carry the world on his shoulders everywhere he went and he could never relax – he has found peace in this family. I have complete faith in him and don't believe I need your services… but the offer is appreciated." Robin licked his lips as he placed his hands on his hips.

"It's not an offer, Lace. It's a promise. That child will forever be under the protection of Robin Hood. I swear it."

"Not to ruin the moment," Allan chipped in, "But how long do you think we have until Gisborne burns down the forest to get her back?" Nobody answered because they already knew they had no time at all.


	13. Seth

"That is not good enough!" Guy shrieked as he stabbed his dagger into the wooden door frame. All of his finest men were assembled in the hall to create a plan to get his darling wife back away from those lawless creatures. "I want her here, and I want her now. I have had enough of your mistakes!" He forced the blade into another hole. "You have failed me a thousand times to find Hood, and I should not have ever given you men another chance. But this mission is the most important one your miserable lives will hold. And so help me if that child is harmed…" The lump in his throat had elevated so high that it choked out the rest of his words. He pointed to the latest plan and ordered them to go. Clinks of metal rang through the hall as men dashed to the courtyard to ride into Sherwood Forest.

This was the most vulnerable moment Sir Guy of Gisborne had experienced since his father's exile. He found it impossible to trace in his mind if it ever hurt this badly to want to cry. He wanted nothing more than to turn the entire forest to ash and vaporize any chance of Hood escaping his fate for this. But he was still sane enough to realize that, although he would flush out his nemesis for sure, he ran the risk of burning his wife and child into the smoldering remains of the woods. He would not let his own hands be soiled with the rich red blood of the one he loved ever again.

Robin, Allan, and Lacie finally approached the edge of the woods. The gleam of the sun was just beginning to play over the edges of Nottingham castle which loomed on the horizon. They had left in the very early hours of the morning to arrive in time for sunrise to ensure their safety. The Lady of Locksley was looking so forward to lying in her feather down blankets again, she couldn't wait to wrap herself up in lush warmth and smell her husband as he stroked her hair. It all seemed so close… But she couldn't shake the lecture Robin and the gang gave her. Between the rumors of the people and the bandits' need to vow her child's protection, she found herself on edge about her return. Seeing that her opportunity was sliding away into the past, she piped up.

"What did you mean he has a past with children?" The men stopped and exchanged awkward looks. "You said Guy had a history. Does he arrest them often?" Allan began to clear his throat, but Hood softly touched his chest and shook his head.

"Lace, I know we disagree on some things. Major things. But you know I would never lie to you, don't you?" Minutely the petite girl nodded her head, signaling him to continue.

"A few years ago, we came into possession of a baby. His name was Seth," The air seemed to grow thicker each time Robin drew in a breath to continue. "And he was the son of one of the chambermaids in Nottingham. We found him, gave him proper care, and returned him to his mother." Lacie clung to each Irish flavored word. "We had found him in the woods, cold and hungry. Clearly… clearly he was left there and no one had plans to get him back."

"I don't see what this has to do with my husband." She mumbled, sliding her feet from the dusty road to the cobbled entrance of the capital town. Allan decided to add his veracity to this tragic tale as he placed a hand on her shoulder blade.

"I met Seth's mum when I was in jail, she came to feed me and said she was missing her son… her son that she had had with… with Gisborne." The female of the bunch cocked her head in displeasure; this was the darkest joke she had ever heard.

"He admitted it, Lace," Robin softly cooed, "He abandoned his illegitimate son in the woods and threw off the mother. We aren't saying he will do it to you, but please, don't be a victim to a wolf in sheep's clothing." She refuted it. Denied it a thousand times over in her mind, but looking into her childhood friend's eyes, she saw nothing but remorse. This could only be the remnants of truth.

Guy felt sick to his bones. He lay in his wife's bed, budding with sweat and fuming of frustration. Needless to say, he hadn't closed his eyes once throughout the night. His soul was jaggedly split between whether or not he should have gone into the thickets himself to find his precious Lacie. Every time he kicked his own head in for not going, he just pictured himself finding her lifeless body somewhere, covered in Hood's arrows or being sprawled out before the laughing outlaw's feet. It would come better to him as news than images.

As this thought played on repeat across his brain, the door to the chamber slinked open. Guy moved only his eyes to catch the motion; nothing could come and hurt him more than the heaviness that already pulled his heart through the soles of his feet to the center of the earth. The disheveled shell of a human that appeared in the doorway could not have possibly looked any more beautiful even if it had been dipped in pure gold. There stood Lacie, hair in knots and hanging freely to the middle of her back with the palest and most worn visage imaginable. Guy had seen soldiers in the Holy Land that looked better rested than her. But his breath was still stolen upon her sight.

He jolted to sit upright and found nothing to say besides her name, over and over. With a thin smile she fell onto the bed and placed her head gently on his lap. They remained in peaceful silence for quite some time before Guy pried into the details – where was she, who did what, is a single skin cell out of place. Lady Gisborne shifted to lie comfortably on her pillows and her devoted husband followed suit; his hand lay on her cheek as his fingers twined her fine hair. She explained how it was all a misunderstanding and how they must honor their past relationship with Robin and keep from retaliation. Guy quickly decided that now was not the time to tell her that, on no uncertain terms, would a single one of those outlaws live another day that was not numbered. Now was the time to rejoice in her safe return. Both, of course, were too exhausted from panic and stress to move or say much at all.

"It was a bit peaceful I have to admit," Lacie began to whisper, "to lie in the forest and think of nothing but this beautiful baby." A contagious grin infected Guy's face, surrounded by unshaven stubble. "And I got to thinking about names. If she's a girl, I would love a Scarlett." Gisborne shut his eyes and imagined the young girl laughing with her mother, all of them in the Sheriff's court of Nottingham.

"It's lovely." He sighed.

"For a boy," she took a long pause, "I think I quite like the name Seth." Gisborne's eyes split open into a gape. She saw his jaw tense and thoughts dash across his forehead.

"No. Never." Was his immediate response, but he knew this would be odd if he didn't add an explanation. Of course, it wouldn't be the truthful one about that wretched whiny child and its annoying mother. He could never justify to her, the woman of serenity, that one of his affairs produced a baby that still lived. "We have to remember, this child will have this name all their life. We should make it very special." And with that, he rolled over to face the other direction. It was a miracle that on the other side of the bed he could not hear the shattering of his wife's heart.


	14. Home Sweet Home

Hey guys and gals! I am hoping to make up for the long hiatus of this story by churning out chapters, and hopefully getting some reviews back! (hint hint, wink wink) Here is a WARNING FOR THE CHAPTER: I understand this story is not rated in a very restrictive way, but the following themes may be a bit dark and violent for some. I apologize if it makes you uncomfortable or upset, but I will avoid heavy details. You have been warned!

The Sherriff tossed aside the scrap of parchment as if it were nothing more than a facial tissue. If Gisborne didn't recognize where they were, he would have never thought that sheet was a decree for the killing of three boys. He looked back at the platform in the center of the courtyard. His favorite part was coming and he was no longer afraid to show it in public, even with his wife at attention to his left. The sweat began to creep up from the pores of the hanging victims as an executioner took his place next to them. As burlap covers were placed over their faces, the Sherriff chuckled out witty banter about thieving from Prince John to the public; some of these jokes even began to spread a smile to the Gisbornes. Floorboards dropped, ropes caught tension, and windpipes snapped. As peasants began to shuffle back into town the nobles proceeded back into the stone fortress of Nottingham.

"One life ends, another begins, eh?" The Sherriff grinned, the ruby in his tooth shining with a devilish gleam. He pointed to the overly swollen belly on Lacie. "You had better squeeze that thing out before it bursts out itself." With this, he exited, leaving only armored guards, Sir Guy, and his wife. Guy placed his hands on either side of the woman's stomach that had been distending for just over nine months. Tenderness flowed through his fingers but fire fell from his voice as he commanded the staff.

"I want one of those bodies hanging from the east, south, and west walls of this castle, do you understand? They do not get moved until every person in Nottingham has seen or smelled them rot for their crimes. They will think twice about going against the Sherriff." Guards filed out of the main doors while the castle's second in command pulled his wife into a tight embrace. The black leather of his overcoat clung to the black fabric of her dress as his slid his arms away. With few words left to say, the couple split. He went deeper into the depths of the castle as she exited and climbed her and her child onto her dark haired horse, with the help of a guard, of course. Lacie began her ride to their home at the base of a dirt path in Locksley. Originally, Guy had moved their permanent residence to Nottingham to avoid violence and rumors. He had wanted to shield his delicate love from the harsh reality of the world, but mostly, his job. Their marriage was falling into its second year and his excuses were wearing thin. Little by little the man in black had to begin revealing the truth to her. Some days he would scream and throw objects about the cottage, and on others he would refuse to eat or sleep. He had grown back into the body of brooding she had been warned of when their love began. That, she could handle.

It was the information that trickled in through the outlaws of Sherwood Forest that she despised. Over the past few months she learned about his illegitimate baby, his kidnapping of children, killing of simple merchants and murder of Lady Marian. The slats of a handsome lover he crafted to cover his true self were peeling; sliding down to reveal soulless being within his skin. Lacie had begun to see days where she despised him. Reaching her home, she slid off of the stallion and slammed herself into the front door. She slid down the wall and squeezed her pregnant stomach between her cold and bony hands. She cursed this child and hoped it would not be healthy. Lacie wanted to steal all the joy from her husband just like he had done to her.

That night, twigs snapped down the paths of the forest. Leaves were stamped into the mud as Will Scarlett dashed back to Hood's camp. Dew hung in the air and latched itself to anything it could grab. He wound around the tangled trees and brush until he came into the vision of Robin, who sat perched on a stone by the fire. Will's nod told the leader of the pack what he needed to know.

"How long has it been?" The bearded man asked solemnly.

"About half an hour ago. I think it will take about another hour. Gisborne is already on his way." Will replied. The outlaws mulled it over in silence – Gisborne's child was being born as they spoke.

Guy finally fell asleep. He lay on the very edge of the bed in his wrinkled trousers, arms folded across his bare chest, face filled with serenity from the healthy birth of his son. Lacie stood at the open window staring into the night. Outside the ewerer was hard at work with warm water to wash away the blood and mess from the long and painful birth of the little boy that slept on the other side of the room by his father. The new mother felt her guts boil up with rage and hate. She turned to see the bundled up child slumber away his first few hours of life. His small pink fingers curled over his bottom lip as he mumbled unconsciously, the thin strands of black hair matted to his newborn scalp. This child was a wonderful thing for her. Lacie had been raised to look forward to motherhood and create a home for all the children she could possibly provide. But that murderer did not deserve this baby.

Her gaze drifted over to Guy's shirt that was crumpled in a heap by the door. The cuffs of it were stained crimson with blood. He was collecting taxes this afternoon by Nettlestone when she returned to their home in Locksley and had to assert the law. Her husband rarely covered his tracks anymore; simply he sugar coated the truth, or left out the most graphic details. The Black Knights, dungeon, movement of Prince John – she knew it all. And it made her physically ill. Guy did not deserve this happiness. From the moment he kissed her at that fence post he weaved a charade, a hoax, deceit. The man in black decided to have his cake and eat it too, using an innocent young girl as a pawn.

Lacie made her way to a small wooden table against the wall. There she shuffled through her stitchings and pushed threads aside. Her hand shoved a bushel of honeysuckles to the floor. She remembered the little girl who had given them to her this morning and sneered. 'They are for the baby when it comes,' she said. But the Lady Gisborne felt no joy or reason to bestow anyone with pleasure at this time, or perhaps anytime from now on. Her husband showed hate to every living thing except for her, as if she was his experiment, his outlet for the itch to lie. Her fingers brushed across one of her shining knitting needles and could not help but stroke it to the sharpened tip. Her eyes slid back to the baby boy she had birthed hours ago. Swiftly Lacie picked the needle up into her palm and squeezed it until her knuckles turned white, stepping silently to the woven crib next to her husband's bed.

She would wash away his happiness with blood, just as he had done to so many others.

Guy let out a long sigh and slowly opened his eyes to the vision of his petite wife by his side. He stretched out his strong hand and brushed the side of her dress, grabbing her attention. Their pale eyes met and stayed locked together.

"I love you. And I love our son. And I cannot wait for us to spend our lives together." He whispered in a baritone hush. With this, he dozed back to sleep. For the rest of the night, his wife stayed wide awake.


	15. Drake

Sir Guy raised his arms up above his head to their limit with his fingers wrapped softly around his warm bundle of a son. Baby Drake of Gisborne dangled in the air over six feet from the dirt path dividing the manor of Locksley and the stables, but he didn't seem to fret or mind one bit. Out of pure instinct, the little boy whole-heartedly trusted his father and his judgment; not once did the tiny noble make a fuss about Guy examining him from each angle. The new father had routinely counted toes and fingers over the past three days of life in such thrill of having a child of his own. He could never have imagined this glorious feeling.

The people of Locksley, and some members of nearby villages, had dropped by his home to donate gifts to the new parents. These normally consisted of old candlesticks or handmade baby clothes; nothing new, of course, considering the poverty they found themselves thrown into by the Sherriff. Guy recognized that this should bother him. Or rather, that it normally would. But for the first time that he could remember, receiving wasn't so important in his mind's eye. The edges of objects seemed much clearer and the sun seemed to beam down a little softer. His skin hardly recognized that the air was starting to chew a bit coldly as late autumn marched to England. He revisited his past vow to himself and swore upon death – he would be a better man for the sake of his family. His own family! Guy still thought that idea was a bit surreal. Drake cooed a bit with a twitch of his feet as Gisborne brought him down to nuzzle on his chest. Both arms attached the three day old to his heart. Word spread and eyes glistened in reeling from the change in the man of black. By midday tomorrow all of Nottinghamshire would have knowledge of his transformation. None, though, seemed to note the change in the mother.

Lacie spent her days cooped up in the manor. The hours were passed by feeding the child, sleeping, or vacant stares and few words. She kept her resentment for her husband hidden like treasure. Guy was worried for his wife, his beautiful wife that had bestowed upon him this gift of a life, but doctors had assured him it was a simple misbalance of humors. This was, they say, a common condition soon after giving birth.

Guy hoped that Drake's christening and baptism at the end of the week would help draw her from this reclusive state. It was a wish she vocalized during pregnancy, after all. Disregarding his marriage, Sir Guy could not recall the last time he had stepped foot into a holy place of worship. Religion had fallen away from him, pushed off by bitterness and fear of the unknown. But he had sworn to himself to build his being up as the honorable man Lacie saw as she kissed him goodnight. That promise must include God.

Still cradling his precious cargo, Guy filtered into the church of Locksley. It was a simple structure with gray walls coated in a thin layer of cream paint and wooden rafters. At the front of the church there hung a large wooden cross that shone down to the altar; both of them held a tinge of blue, green, and red from the sun glinting in through stained glass windows on either side. A man sat in the center pew of the left side clutching a frayed hat. He swung his head around to see Gisborne enter God's house and nearly left in the middle of his prayer, but the smile that pulled at his lips and the soft view of baby Drake changed the man's mind. He, against all reason, would not mind sharing this church with Sir Guy today. Gisborne made his way to the front pew and stared awing at the timber reminder of how Jesus had died. He still wasn't sure if he believed the stories, he felt it would be nice to, but no certainty existed. Still, it was worth a shot for his family. Looking down, he noted dents placed in tracks in front of each pew, the structure warped from hundreds of people stooping on their knees before their Savior. Guy's mind itched in whether he was supposed to kneel to pray of sit on the bench. Who knew this would be so overwhelming.

Eventually he decided to lay aside his pride and rest upon his shins, his still pink son supported by his elbows against the black leather jacket spread across his breast. Gisborne watched proudly as the baby drifted off into another round of slumber. It was then that he noted the eerie silence of the church. He felt a presence all around him, not an ominous one that would take him into salvation, but rather one that could note each of his mistakes and point out that he was doing this entire prayer thing wrong. Guy wished he had brought Lacie. Oh, Lacie. The girl he had loved since childhood. She seemed to be a blessing, and without a God, blessings are difficult to contrive, aren't they? He remained in stationary confusion until deciding to get this over with.

Guy shut his eyes and tried to form the best prayer he could. Was there a template to use, or was he allowed to just wing it? He felt the palms of his hands dewing with sweat and became frustrated. He was so lost, nothing more than a feral sheep with no shepherd. He organized his thoughts and hoped that if there was a God, He would notice.

He thought about his wonderful wife and all the joy she caused to stir in his heart. He remembered the wary concern for her health. But more importantly, he remembered what he wanted to do for her. In the budding of their relationship, he had entered an alteration that created so much positivity and emotion into his life. Mercy had for once become an option. His violence and regret began to dwindle down. In the past few months, though, he had failed her. He had failed himself. Greed, vengeance, and foul play had become a part of his hand again, but for what? Maybe to try and provide a better future for his child, to erase the unknown of what was to be. Guy realized the reasons were trivial. He had fallen into bad habits just as an alcoholic tumbles back to the bottle. He was so thankful, though, that this haze never crept into his marriage. He had done his best to restrain himself from divulging gruesome facts or inserting terror into Lacie. He wanted to be a good man for her; and now, he wanted to be a good man for everyone. And he was no longer afraid to admit he needed help to do it.

Drake began to minutely attempt to whine at his father from hunger. Gisborne ran his thumb gently over the back of his skull and nodded. It was time to head home. He gave one last look at the crucifix on the wall and hoped that he had done it right, or at least well enough. Just to be safe, he tagged an 'amen' onto the end. The man in black and his baby boy exited the church and began the short walk to their manor where Lacie would be awaiting them. Hopefully, he thought, this was the start of a new chapter.


	16. Watch It Crumble

Laughter danced between the hard walls of the dining hall as guests enjoyed their meal. The Sherriff sat atop his high wooden chair at the head of the table and drooped his face into a fisted hand; he could care less about tonight. It didn't have anything to do with him so why should it be happening? With a sigh his eyes glazed over and did some rounds down the table. The list of patrons included the shy Lord of Clun and his mousey son, the overly fat and overly obnoxious head of Nettlestone, and several other attendees from Nottinghamshire that reached out as far as Derbyshire. His pudgy fingers tapped at the table before picking off another few pieces of his bread to munch. Guy of Gisborne, though, paid no attention to his superior's childish self-obsession and boredom. This was a feast in honor of the birth of his child, and nothing could take this pride from him. His mind was fueled by vanity and possession as always and here dozens of people had come to praise him on the great wealth of both that he held.

The end of supper had come; this was noted by the arrival of kitchen staff with basins of water and linens. As each noble cleansed their hands of the messy meal, Guy continued to laugh and beam, his mood elevating higher at each joke and every congratulations. Goblets of red wine and aged cheese proceeded out to the wooden table for dessert and the lucky guests prepared to close the meal. The Lord of Nettlestone piped up above the chatter and slapped his hand between the shoulder blades of Guy.

"So then, where is this little Gisborne, eh? He must be devilishly ugly if you're hiding him so well."

"Yes, Gisborne," the Sherriff chipped in, "you'd best summon the little tyke before they think he looks anything like you." His jeweled toothy grin sent foulness into the air, but no one seemed to notice the jab. The tall man swept a bit of hair from his face and turned to one of the guards in the room.

"Send in Lacie, won't you?" After a curt nod the task had begun.

Drake lay spread out on the bed, his toes and fingers gently curling as they came to a tip. His flesh was still pink from youth. Lacie sat perched atop the desk in the corner of the room. As per tradition, the men were downstairs enjoying a wonderful feast as she finished her food in private to conceal any untidiness. During this privacy, she had plenty of time to reflect and brood over who her husband was. Was he a sweet and romantic man who manipulated people into thinking he was a horrid monster, or a creature of disgusting habits taking advantage of her trusting and gullible nature? After months of fierce debate, she still couldn't conclude if she knew the truth or a sham. Either way she had been dwelling upon a mountainous heap of loathing and anger towards Guy. No matter what the details, she was not given the truth. She existed like a withered plant in the shadowed recesses in the eclipse of Guy's web of stories and acts. If she did not deserve the full enjoyment of life and love from her spouse, he did not deserve the same from the world.

Lacie slid her body off of the writing desk and slowly approached the bed. Her fingers fiddled with the collar of the baby's shirt as she made a mental engraving of his peaceful face. She loved Drake. She always would. But this was a situation of the one for the many. Her other hand stretched to grab the feather pillow at the head of the mattress. Only for a moment did she feel a pang to cry, but then the courage boiled back to her head. Her left hand clung tight to the pillow as she drew it closer and closer to her baby boy. The edge of it brushed his face as a hard knock came to her door, followed by a bustled entrance of an armored guard who was breathing subtly harder from his jog upstairs.

"Lady Gisborne," he huffed in a voice that was nowhere near gruff or low, "Your presence is requested down at the banquet by the Sherriff and your husband."

She quickly tucked the cushion under his fragile head to cover her plot. Hurriedly, she picked up the baby and wrapped him in a small blanket. With a smile, the man brought her down to the nobles' party in the dining hall. From meters away the tinkling of dishes and hearty bellows of jubilant men could be heard. Nottingham's protector ran ahead of her and swung open the door, creaking it loudly, and cleared his throat.

"My lords, I announce the arrival of Lady Lacie of Gisborne and the heir to the Gisborne title." The company stood, glasses of wine in hand, and watched as she entered the room cradling the wriggling infant. Guy burst with a grin as he leapt from his seat and rushed to his family. He put a hand on her back and stroked the top of Drake's head before taking him from her arms. The Sherriff's enforcer made the rounds to his colleagues as they ogled the child while the head of state pondered a new interior design and Lacie looked on in tense happiness. The homely representative of Clun requested that he hold the baby, and, upon receipt of the bundle, remembered how awkward it was to embrace such a thing. He and his peculiar son patted Drake on the head a few times then passed him off to the parent.

A few commendations made their way to the short girl but the compliments flooded the father. After all, he had a successor to the title of Locksley, and she was but the carrying vessel for that heir. Eventually the excitement began to dwindle as the food lessened and the moon rose to the height of the tallest towers. The visitors took a cue from the infant with a few dark hairs and began to feel the fatigue that comes with the night. As they trickled from the room and made their journeys home, the Sherriff found himself free to head to his chambers as well, leaving only the Gisbornes in the great hall. Guy shifted Drake into the crook of his arm and encompassed his wife with the other, holding her close and shutting his eyes.

He took in a deep breath to absorb the smell of her soft hair and placed a kiss on her temple. "Lacie, I am sorry if I have been distant from you of late." He sighed. The new mother shifted a bit but said nothing, "I promised you a long time ago that I can be a good man and I, well," a gulp paused his speech, "I failed. I would like to do better for you, because I love you. You are everything, Lacie, everything. And I would give anything for you to be happy." He kissed down her cheek until his warm lips met hers. His hand gripped the small of her back as he pushed into her passionately. He felt so distant from her soul as of late. Lacie's mind flashed through the months of his courting her, the evenings they would lay on her bed and hold hands, the trinkets he would buy and place around her chambers to surprise her, the events he would bring her to in order to flaunt her. This kiss, this man, it was the same. It was in this moment that she realized Robin had led her on a path of destruction and lies in order to sabotage the Sherriff, it all made sense now. Of course she knew her husband, and of course she loved her family. The outlaws were playing with her innocent mind to use her as a pawn. Hood had tried to drive a wedge between her and her partner to create a weak point in the castle. It was not Guy's happiness that deserved to dissipate at all – it was the outlaws.

Lacie wrapped her arms around the strong man in black and held on tightly. She would tell him in the morning of these horrible things. And then, they could watch the crumbling of criminals together as Guy exacted revenge.


	17. Robin Hood

Hands soaked in a bucket of water, Lacie scrubbed away weeks of filth from the flesh of the carrot. She neatly added it to the stack of other cleaned vegetables that the cook was preparing for supper. The redhead took a few steps over to another countertop and grabbed a basket of peas to prepare, but as her fingers wrapped around it she paid no attention to the container, rather her eyes were looking through the opened wooden shutters to a small hill that lay on their property in Locksley. It warmed her heart to see five year old Drake playing knights with the neighbor's boy. The dark haired noble had the same locks as his father, as well as the strong jaw line and height. Maternally he had gathered a serene behavior and fascination with nature.

"Gahh!" shouted Ethan, the peasant's son, as he charged at Drake with a wet wooden stick. Driving into the crevice between torso and arm, Gisborne's son had been defeated in battle. He took a long and dramatic tumble down the hill, unable to contain laughter. He got up and swept some dust from his trousers and ran back up to his pal.

"Alright then, my turn to be a knight for Prince John," he grasped another weapon that had fallen from a tree, "and it's your turn to be the criminal. Run, filthy outlaw, run!" Drake began to chase after Ethan in a wide circle, being stopped by the drawing of the opponent's 'sword.'

"I am not just any outlaw; I am the greatest outlaw of them all! I am Robin Hood!" Ethan proclaimed with a hand to his chest before taking off down the other side of the ridge. Shouting and giggling drifted around Locksley manor while the children entertained themselves and the women heated up a meal. In the distance, dust began to create a thin veil along the road leading into town. Soon it would get dark, and there was only one man in this village that traveled so far and stayed so late for business. Drake became excited at the peeking of the head of his father's horse as it came closer to their home; he wanted to make his dad proud with his combat skills. He prodded and jabbed at his young friend while each attack was clumsily evaded or knocked away by an opposing instrument. Sir Guy turned his head to gaze at the mock battle as he strode to the stables and dismounted, handing the stallion off to the boy who worked there. The grown up tugged the right glove from his hand with his teeth and then used the bare fingers to remove the opposite one as he approached the mound before the kitchen. The boys paused their duel to greet the Sheriff's associate who had been proving himself rather useful of late to Prince John; Ethan did so with a curt nod and Drake with a widespread grin.

Guy touched a palm to his son's head and told him to pick up his sword again for a strike. The kids instantly hopped back into their fantasy land and held their weapons high. "Now remember, Drake, keep your weight on this back foot," he said lowly with a gaze at the enemy, "and barely touch your front toes down. That way, you can move like this, " he manipulated the child's shoulders to freely roam left to right and swayed his upper body forward and back, "and escape any hit." Both of them attempted their best to mimic this piece of priceless advice as they continued playtime. After a minute of instruction, Guy wiped the stubble on his chin and proceeded into his large cottage. Lacie shook the wet from her hands before meeting her husband halfway into the cooking hall and providing a tight hug. They kissed and discussed the matters of his day at the castle as the outdoor match climaxed. Ethan landed flat on his back as Drake's branch touched the outlaw's throat.

"Surrender!" Shouted the black haired boy. Ethan quickly complied and scrambled to his feet with a beam.

"You know, Robin Hood would never surrender to anybody." He said matter-of-factly while cleaning his shirt; his mother would kill him if he ruined his clothes. Gisborne's child laughed.

"That's what you think! My father is going to catch him and he will beg for his life. He's a criminal like the rest of 'em." Ethan glued fists to his hips and shook his head quickly.

"Nuh-uh! Robin Hood is a hero! He brings the villages food in the night and gave me a bow, just for me! And mum always says that he is doing more good than anyone in the castle!"

"Drake! Come in for supper!" he turned his head to see his mother leaning over the windowsill to beckon him back home to eat.

"We will see about that." Was the final word from the youngster before he went into the manor. Trotting quickly, he made it inside in record time, dropping his stick in front of the stables. The cook held a small bowl of water for him to rinse his hands in before he sat next to Lacie. The ewerer and cook also took a seat at the table before she said a small prayer; meanwhile Guy attempted to mentally rush her so that the pain of hunger in his stomach would be quenched immediately. He didn't have the patience to wait after such a long day. It seemed like another month to him, but eventually they were all free to begin picking at vegetables to open the supper. It took no time at all for the women to whip up a fast paced and hilarious conversation. The men sipped ale and progressed through their meal in silence.

Lacie giggled so hard she almost choked on the poultry she was chewing on multiple occasions. Nobody seemed to note the conflict inside Drake until he aired it out to his father. Sir Guy leaned one elbow on the table and began to sop up juices with a bite of bread when his son piped up.

"Dad, why haven't you caught Robin Hood yet?" Silence crashed through them like an anvil, stopping all eating, and halting Guy as he was in the process of chewing. Lacie put a hand on her son's leg and hushed him quietly while her husband took a second to collect himself. His chest had hardened and frustration began to boil under the leather, making it hard to clear his throat before speaking. He kept his clear blue eyes on the table before him.

"Robin Hood will be caught and punished to the full extent of the law. It won't be long now." Everything settled for a peaceful bit of time, but then the situation grew dire.

"Well I heard he makes you guys look bad. But it's good that you are taking a long time because he's a good guy, Dad. You're allowed to take your time." Before Lacie could interject Gisborne slammed both palms onto the wooden table and glared into his child. The wrinkles nestled around his eyes were deeper with rage.

"Robin Hood and his band of idiots are the trash that walks this earth. He has nothing. He is lawless scum that survives by feeding off the wealthy and giving false hope to pathetic wastes. Outlaws are grubby, Godless creatures with no sense of mankind. And mark me, I will kill Hood with my bare hands after he watches his gang suffer at the noose."

"I was told he helped people that the Sheriff was mean to." Drake innocently muttered into his peas. In the snap of a moment Guy launched his plate of food into the wall and let out a nearly animalistic cry, striking a flinch into everyone before he stormed out the back door. His wife brushed through their child's hair and quickly picked up pursuit. She turned the corner in time to see him stab into the trunk of a tall tree with a small dagger repeatedly, shaving off bark onto the lush grass.

"Guy." She lovingly chimed with a false smile. He paid her no attention. The brooding man laid his forehead to the wood and squeezed its sides with every drop of energy he could produce from his muscles into his hands when Lacie timidly rested a hand on his shoulder blade. "He doesn't understand what he's doing wrong; he doesn't mean it. It's just kids repeating what they hear." Gisborne turned his head to look at the short redhead and revealed the deep sorrow and anguish in his eyes. He clearly felt a failure to his family.

"He shouldn't be hearing it, Lacie. These people should be punished for slandering the Sherriff." With a long sigh he pressed his spine into the hard oak and sat on the ground, fingers combing over the lawn. His beautiful wife sat facing him, leaning all of her weight into her right arm and hip, curling her legs under her dress. She watched him mull in stillness. "For years Hood has escaped me. He has made me a damned fool. I thought… I thought I wanted the fame he has. I wanted the love and camaraderie he experiences every day. But I have all the love I could need," His lips pulled tightly as he placed a palm to her milky cheek, "I am a failure and he has my dignity, Lacie. Even my child can see that." Lacie did not speak for quite some time. This was the most exposed her husband had ever been that she could draw from their past. He sat before her naked, bare skin exposed to the balmy evening and judgment this moment could allow her to create. She smiled as her love for him grew. The fact that he shared such a cavernous and hidden thought touched her heart. The Lady Gisborne put her ear against his shoulder and kissed his cheek several times.

"You are an amazing man, and a wonderful father. I could not ask any more from you, Guy, and neither could Drake. He is too young to know the ways of the world or to see what an atrocity being an outlaw really is. He will learn from his brilliant and handsome father." They both had a small grin appear. She put an arm across his sturdy chest and relaxed as cool breeze washed over their flesh. It was the beginning of spring, of new beginnings, and of romance. He donated a ginger kiss to her soft pink lips and tried to change the subject in his own head. He was so close to the man he wanted to be, he could taste it with every meal and smell it every night at bed. At that was left to do was reclaim his pride.


	18. Business Matters

***Hey there all of you gorgeous people! I know, I know, I have been MIA lately. I recently started a new job and it is fascinating how much it cuts into my story writing time! But don't you worry - I have plenty of ideas floating around in my brain juices. It's just a matter of typing them out. If you missed the story, have any ideas, or just want to be cool, stop by and shoot me a review or comment! I would love to know who reads all of this chaos I like to call creativity.***

If she had told him once, she had told him a thousand times. No! But still the child sat adhered to the back door just itching to swing it open and run out, craving that streak of whimsy that would define an adult as mad. Lacie felt a pang of sadness at having to deny her son his fun, but could you imagine what Guy would say? He would throw on his most official face and scowl through her skin in disappointment to her 'immaturity,' as he would call it. That was always Guy's excuse for when they argued.

"You can't possibly understand the ways of the world," he would explain after a condescending chuckle, "You're but a child. The grown men make and understand this place. That's not your job." The lids would lower over his ice blue eyes while the crow's feet sank deeper with menace as he stepped closer, carefully picking each word like a fruit from a tree. He would have his way with the last words in any fight.

But even if she was half his age, Lacie was confident that she understood plenty, like how to make her husband happy (at least a majority of the time)and how to raise a son. Guy could never truthfully refute that. But of course if she allowed Drake to dash out to the stables this morning it would be another arrow for him to stock against her in a feud for the next three days. And today was so special, she didn't want to ruin it for anybody, especially Guy, much less anyone in England who had any fiber of patriotism. Today was the day he came.

The flames of his calves were a small price to pay for Drake as he stood tip-toed at the door. At his stature, this strain was the only way to see out the window, but his brain wouldn't allow the muscles to quit. The sunlight glinted off his intricately colored eyes as it transitioned the morning to early afternoon in Locksley so the boy couldn't see much, but once in a while, just sometimes, if he listened closely, he could hear the movement in the stables. He was used to Mummy and Dad having horses out there; those weren't anything special at all, just dumb old horses. This was all so new! He wanted to go out and sprint as fast as his legs could carry him to the wooden stall and leap in to meet this new experience. Hearing his father's footsteps coming down the staircase sank Drake's heart and shielded the tiny glow of a chance there was that his dream would become reality by his mother crumbling. Lately Dad didn't want to have any fun. This would be no different.

Gisborne sniffed sharply and scuffled his feet to halt as he made it to the ground level, his gaze fixed on his wife. As she had promised, Lacie was dressed in a fine gown that draped lilac over her creamy soft skin with golden jewelry her husband had adorned her with throughout the years. The low cut and dripping sleeves held his attention before he turned over to his son. Drake had been stuffed into gray trousers and a nice top by his mother this morning, and it was clear by his demeanor that though he had other things on his mind, he dare not wrinkle or dirty the outfit. Lacie's finger in his face was all he needed to be obedient. After all, that signal forbade of Guy's demands on the issues as well. Nobody in Nottinghamshire had the courage to consider stray behavior; why would a seven year old? This line of thought was burst apart when Guy felt his wife's touch on his arm. She lifted her gentle green eyes to his face and let this begging image soak in before her words began.

"Please, my love, he's dying to go out there. Just for a few minutes." His eyebrows raised with benevolence, hosting a bit of traitorous intentions to the strength of his tone.

"Lace, you know that I told Drake no. I refuse to let him come to Locksley only to discover my child playing with royal property. Now how would that look on us?"

Lacie let her lip pout as she watched Drake's small round legs shaking under the draining fatigue; he had stood like that for at least twenty minutes. She took her hands and slid them to her husband's ribs and pressed her body up to his torso with a sigh. She felt his chest release a small giggle at her obvious pity attempt.

"It will just be for a few minutes, Guy. I promise to take Drake out before he gets here. He won't know." The head of the household lifted his chin and tightened the muscles in his neck before looking back down into her whirlpool of bargaining; she knew how much he loved her and that she was cute enough to get away with nearly anything she wanted.

"Hurry." Was all he whispered before she clapped her hands with glee. He shook his head a bit before going to the shined floor-length metal plate in the opposite corner. As he adjusted his hair for his business meeting, he watched the reflection of Lacie taking Drake's hand in the mirror and leading him outside. Guy sauntered out behind them and wound his way to the front of the manor just in time to see the horses, guards, and carriage coming upon Locksley.

Drake was too busy yanking his Mum's arm from the socket as he dashed to the stables to notice the affairs, though. Lacie was nearly tripping on her toes by the time they got to the entrance and she felt her body searching for breath from the running and laughing. Gingerly, she swung out the top off of the door and let it hinge in another direction out of the way. Her fingers then flipped the latch to the lower portion and began to creak it open. She held a foot at the corner to keep anything from getting out as she ushered her giddy son inside and followed. The boy's eyes ignited with joy as he saw what his father had been storing – it was true! In the back half were about a dozen long stretched furry bodies sleeping, playing, and eating. He had been dreaming about sneaking over to pet the hunting dogs all week and now was his chance! Lacie, too, went over to the group and knelt down. Immediately, a basset hound came to her hand and nuzzled against her flesh in demands of attention. She scratched the warm and floppy skin behind his ear as a bloodhound caught onto the idea and introduced himself to her other side. The youngest Gisborne did not hesitate to snatch up a dachshund and cuddle it to his face. The pair cooed and cuddled for a little while before they began to hear voices approaching and, true to her word, Lacie led Drake back out as Guy and his party came into view. She did a hasty last moment brush of the boy's clothes before erecting her spine and grinning.

"And this, my Lord, is the Lady Gisborne and my son, Drake." Guy formally continued. The married couple knew he felt much more pride in them than he let on, but he had flipped the switch to begin the work day and when he was in business mode, everything became black and white. The youthful woman in purple curtsied while Drake channeled his bowing practices the night before.

"Lovely," Prince John slyly beamed, "simply lovely." He took another step closer and did not acknowledge Lacie's greeting of 'Your Highness.' He slid a curl of her fine hair between his fingers. "You know, in less civil places redheads are burned as witches." His gaze did not falter from the Lady Gisborne's as her eyeballs swelled up. She looked to her husband, who had screwed up his face from the inappropriateness of this comment. The Prince shrugged and moved past her to wipe a hand across the stable. "I take it they are in perfect condition?"

Guy drew in his breath slowly before answering with a baritone boom, "Yes, my Lord, all of them have been well cared for. And they have all arrived, even the ones from France. I am confident they can find Hood."

"Wonderful news, Gisborne, wonderful news. I suppose it's time we go see the Sherriff, hmm? Although I hate to, he is such a drag," John briefly examined the female one more time, "but, my dear, duty calls." He snapped and commanded half the guards with them to round up the hounds and begin the forest search. Guy held a long a steady watch on his wife as Lacie returned the favor. Even in midst of business matters, he took aside an isolated moment of time to create a private sector for the two of them. They savored the flavor of this time and broke it off in a matter of seconds to return to the real world, but it didn't subtract any of the meaning they both felt stir in their hearts.


	19. If the Bible Tells You So

Oh, all of my sweeties, it is so grand to see you again! I just moved house, so story writing was a bit low on the priority list. I adore all of your comments and faithfulness to the story. Enjoy and, as always, make today extravagant.

"In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea, with a glory in His bosom that transfigures you and me," Drake chanted in amusement, his hands fiddling with a small wooden toy horse. His father looked up from across the kitchen table and stared at him silently as his strong hand continued to polish his sword. The cloth slowed to a halt as the boy's song continued. "As He died to make men holy, let us die to make men free while God is marching on." Gisborne narrowed his eyes and darted a stare up to his wife, whose fingers were stroking through her son's hair as her chest hummed a tune to his hymn. She met his gaze with a tender smile and, if he was not mistaken, a glint of pride.

Lacie's deep religious faith was always a facet that he found somewhat adorable about her; her blind belief was so innocent and her simple solutions so heartwarming. Guy had taught himself to hold his tongue and accept their differences - a great feat for his past self, to say the least. He tolerated her love of religion and never once held it against her. But for some reason the fact that it was bleeding into his son put a bitter sting in his mouth. Lacie, he thought, was too young to realize that the only reason her faith ran so deep is because her father held office in the parish of the Sherriff of Leeds. Gisborne, Lacie thought, was too slighted by mankind to place trust in another being outside of himself.

"Glory! Glory! Hallelujah!" the youngster of the family belted, "Come on, Dad, you can sing it with us!" Guy sniffed and put no thought into cushioning his words.

"Everyone should stop singing." Lacie reflected his sourness like a mirror with pursed lips and placed her palms on Drake's shoulders.

"Dad just doesn't know the words." Gisborne shook his head and resumed the uniform task of brightening his blade.

"Well if you came to church with us this morning you would know how it goes."

"Oh now, Drake, he is far too busy for church, isn't that right, Guy?" He paid her phrase no attention as both adults felt the load her words carried.

It was common knowledge in the manor that the Sherriff's associate was not regularly this opposed to the theme of God, but rather that today's mood had been triggered. A procession of England's finest parishioners had been organized to greet Prince John and say blessings for his brother in the Holy Land; among these men, Lacie's father, the Deacon of Leeds. That in itself held hostility within the family.

Gisborne distinctly held the vivid memory of that afternoon Lacie received a letter from her father. It was years ago, but weeks before their wedding, when the tension was birthed. His brain drifted over to that afternoon as his body worked the routine of weapon maintenance.

Lacie sat upon the steps of Nottingham castle, hair adorned with Canterbury bells and yellow trumpets. Her sleek form was in a fluid curl as her elbows dug into her tender knees and her face was barred by slim hands. Her beauty belied the tragedy that resided in her heart. Guy immediately abandoned his task in the outside corridor to rush to her side; his heart froze in terror that she had grown cold feet. Descending from the front doors he tugged each glove off with clenched teeth and went to glide his hands through her orange waves. As he worked his way through her hair she sat up straight and created a porcelain mask, her wrists removing traces of tears and her lips in a tight grin. It was clearly a hopeless effort.

"Lacie, what is upsetting you?" he gingerly jumped in. Guy was not interested in beating around the bush with her distraught emotions, "What could have happened to such a beautiful thing?" Lacie tilted back to see her betrothed, exposing a cream letter on her lap. He was sure to snatch it up without hesitation.

"My father is not coming to our wedding." She noted simply in a poor attempt to shrug it off. Gisborne's frosty eyes quickly scanned the words that had been penned in Leeds, his mind used to reading information, his fingers gripping the parchment roughly. What he read was solely confirmation to Lacie's statement. "He has other things he must attend to."

"You are marrying a noble in three weeks," his low voice hardly said, "and he is too selfish to attend?"

"Guy, he's not selfish –"

"He says here he would rather work. You do not deserve such a thing, and I will be certain to mend this." He spun on his heel as his fiancée grabbed the leg of his trousers.

"No, please. It's okay, really." The noble cocked his head to the side and squinted. She continued, "My father has a duty to God. He says that duty is more important than any worldly action; the last thing I want to do is cross God's will."

"Lacie, this is not a will of God, this is an awful man."

"How dare you speak of my father that way?" She stood, arms crossed like a toddler.

"He refuses to give away his daughter just to sit in a chapel? It is unforgiveable."

"It is trivial in the eyes of the Lord." Lacie countered in a hushed word.

Even know after years of distress on every relationship the couple was at an impasse when it came to Deacon Stockham. Their son was walking, talking, and learning basic horse riding and yet Guy was lacking the experience of ever meeting a father-in-law. How could a man choose that over his daughter's wedding to a man of such high caliber? It is not every day a family leaps up in class. This negative cloud stuck to him all through the carriage ride to his upper authority's castle.

Rain loomed over Nottingham like a cloak of the atmosphere as afternoon fell to dusk. One would not be able to tell, though, by the sky, for it was already covered in a thick gray haze. Drake was the first to giddily emerge onto the courtyard, followed shortly by his parents, but he paid no mind to them. The entrance was filled with clergymen dressed in the finest garb for this evening's ceremony. The gold woven fabric captured the child's eye as it glinted off the peeks of setting sunlight. The rich cardinal red under the fabric reminded Guy of blood upon its sight. His sinful parallel was shattered when his wife squeezed his forearm before running off to the glob of holy men with a clear target in sight; she had no doubt seen her father and discarded all bitterness towards him. Gisborne stood tall over the visitors with a stone watch on his Lacie and their son whilst they interacted and hugged a thin skinned Deacon. Social activity was carried out in sects through the piazza, leaving only Guy isolated, adding to his discomfort with the church. His pride immobilized his legs as Lacie begged him to come over in posture. Being the faithful wife that she was, she opted to instead bring Deacon Stockham and Drake over to Guy's heavy presence.

"Daddy, this is my wonderful husband, Guy," she beamed. Her white teeth shone through the mugginess and melted the ice that had crystallized over his heart. Looking over to his father-in-law froze it back.

"It's Sir Guy of Gisborne." He lowly replied as if he had been called Robin Hood by another colleague. The barricade of brute strength and alpha male insistence had obviously been thrown up, but it did not seem to faze the other man.

"Sir Guy, how wonderful it is to meet my daughter's possessor. I trust she is nothing but magnificent to you?" He extended a hand in a greeting gesture and soon dropped it when the motion was not reciprocated, "I am Deacon Stockham of Leeds."

"Yes, I am aware." Was Gisborne's reply. Lacie reprimanded him with her eyes.

"Your son is a strong looking lad. He is being raised well."

"Drake is appearing to be quite promising in his training and education."

Thankfully the testosterone was cut when the fortress doors swung open to reveal the Sherriff and his own boss, both showing garments worth more than a weekly salary for most of their subjects. Guy gave a nod and sauntered to his position up front with the men who ruled this county. Lacie began to apologize for the off-putting nature of her partner, citing his stress, but she was soon hushed and put into an inferior position as a woman in this situation. Her obedience, her father stated, was what would make men and God alike happy with her. She held the hand of her sharp jawed son and the skirt of her dress in the other hand as she followed Gisborne's path up to the front. Lacie paid little attention to the rambling on of the Prince as she was flooded with memories of being brought up in such a strict home. Drake, she thought, would have better.

"And so, my dear men, I thank you – no! My brother thanks you for your attendance here today." Prince John hammed up each word as the clergy ate it with enthusiasm, "Without you, where would this country be? Without a King and without a church? Oh, I dread the day." His words trailed off as Lady Gisborne wound up the steps in a mousey walk to stand beside her husband. His mind processed her petite frame and submissive behavior in a moment that was not unseen by Guy. It was no secret that John had a taste for women, but Gisborne took great offence to his suggestive looks throughout the rest of his speech.

Priests and Deacons filed inside to light the candles and begin the prayers for King Richard as John stole a last glance. Guy snapped his hand to Lacie's and clung tightly to her wrist. His body language marked her as territory and welcomed a challenge which was answered with a small chuckle. Gisborne was aware that his wife had begun discussing his past behavior to her father, but he paid no mind to even pick out words. He was too preoccupied preparing against the men in this castle who were on different teams than himself.


	20. Family

Yesterday's rain had left the sky a deep purple like that of a swollen bruise throughout the afternoon. Humidity ate at the air and added several pounds of weight and thickness all around the county. Drake of Gisborne seemed to be the only creature on the castle grounds who was not sluggishly impaired by the weather; in fact, his mother had given up on containing him so he dashed about the courtyard with a stick flowing fantasy after fantasy together. Lacie sat dressed in powder blue on the steps of the fortress as she had dozens of times over the past several years. The elements had rubbed a shade away from the stone over the months but time had not put a mark upon her body. Her hair had lightened some from the sun in Locksley and her confidence had become publicly noted, but it would only be natural to assume she was near the same age as she was when she had come to Nottingham. Her father, however, would have no clue of this at all. She had just arrived at the age of twenty seven with the same smooth skin as she had when she gave her hand to Gisborne at nineteen, and she occasionally found herself hoping this would carry into her thirties with ease. Lacie couldn't help but see that her father hadn't changed too much, either. His pale hair held only a few straws of silver in the light and his stature hadn't altered from her memory. Then again, he always made the pace of a sixty year old man even in his youth.

"Have you put any thought into what seminary he should head to?" Michael Stockham asked as his eyes followed the trail of the make believe warrior. The gentle wind brushed the tips of Drake's hair as it dangled an inch above his shoulders. It was thick and onyx, just like his father's. With a small sigh the question was processed.

"I have made you no guarantee he is to be in the clergy."

"It is family tradition, Lacie. If you cannot, your son shall." This matter seemed very black and white in the Deacon's mind. As per usual, Lacie puckered her lips a bit when handling a difficult matter.

"He may go into politics like his father. That could be the start of a new family tradition, Dad."

"For heaven's sakes, at least put him into a monastery! I should rather have a grandson who is a monk than some ungrateful landlord."

_You didn't even know you had a grandson until a month ago, _she battled back internally. Her obedience, though, took over and drifted into silence. Men of the robe wandered by from time to time as wetness glided past in the breeze.

Drake had tried to spend time with his grandfather, but all he and mum did was talk about boring adult things. It was as if everybody else wanted to be bored today! He found his arms tired with strain from playing sword and jousting for the past hour and so he softly released the wood to the ground. His clear stare mazed about the plaza. The Sherriff's men were going about the usual duties Dad oversaw, like loading carts and changing the shoes on the horses. Bales of hay were being tied down to a wooden wagon for delivery to who knows where and this caught his eye. He didn't know how to care for horses or sharpen weapons, but surely he could do this.

Lacie absently saw her son plead with the guard and eventually start tugging straw up with all of his might. She became distracted when her husband approached them. His face was blank but saturated with a burden that saddened her, for she knew that his forty two years on this plane of existence had been nothing but back to back trials and internal suffering. A fine line had started to develop from the base of his nose down alongside his mouth which only tended to appear when he wore this scowl. Guy strolled next to the pair and stood tall, one foot elevated a step above the other, his title flashed across his breast.

"The Sherriff would like to see you; he has a delivery for your Sherriff." A flatness clung to the words. Deacon Stockham chuckled and shook his head.

"I am no letter carrier." He watched as his son-in-law flared his nostrils and gave a roll of his eyes.

"This is likely the only opportunity your county has of getting its loan back from the Sherriff. I'm sure it would be much easier for him if I said to just forget it." Michael Stockham gave a small nod and rose very slowly, as if his joints had become adhered to the ground. Just as he turned to leave, he put a glance back to his daughter and smiled.

"You know, Lacie, it is wonderful to be here with you. We may not have the fortune of being close, but it is not God's will in this life. I look forward to our eternity together after this world." Gisborne's sneer went unheeded as the front doors shut. Before he could make a wise remark to his love, he felt a clasp around his thigh.

"Daddy, did you see? Did you watch me?" Drake grasped tightly to his Dad in excitement. He absorbed his father's wide grin. Guy swept down and scooped up the growing boy and held him on his hip, knowing that at seven years of age, he could not do this many more times.

"I certainly see you now. What have you been up to?" Drake threw his whole body into pointing over to the draw gate at the entrance.

"I helped Paul load the hay! We did the hay, Daddy!" Both boys examined the grass that was secured and prepared to travel out to a thatcher in Nettlestone for a troop camp. Alongside the cart stood a chainmail clad guard with a meek wave at his boss. Guy reflected on how he would have to trust his son on whatever this man's name was.

"I am growing more proud of you every day." He muttered happily. There the family perched for the afternoon in each other's company, enjoying the good that both parents knew could only be temporary.


	21. Suspicion Rises

Drake did not care a sliver of what the reason, he just loved staying in the ginormous castle for a holiday. Things were so much different here than at home, especially the way that staff were active twenty-four-seven; it was hellacious trying to get the child into bed for the night. Guy, on the other hand, was resenting every minute of his life here. It was true that these halls held good memories of victories and falling in love with his wife, but more over he felt the looming presence of his boss around every turn. It had been a few years now since he broke free from his marionette strings but they had never gotten too distant. It would only take one event to slip him back into his old and miserable place.

Prince John, though, was a silver lining to the man of black. Somehow he made Gisborne feel secure and right with himself and, dare he say it, maybe even a little bit understood. If it wasn't for the Prince's visit, Guy would have lost his mind here.

Chambermaid Sarah twisted the handkerchief around her palm tightly as she deliberately stepped down the halls. Her skirt bustled against her legs as she made short strokes in anxiety. Sure it was common knowledge that Sir Guy of Gisborne had adopted a mellow theme, but there was no amount of charity that man could ever do to outweigh the bad in her memories. Her and several other employees had sworn to themselves never to abandon the eggshells that had lain across the floor for the past fifteen years. As she entered the library, she hoped to rely on the myth that so long as his wife was present she could be in no danger.

"Sir Guy?" she softly nudged vocally. Gisborne and his son were seated at a tall and slender oak chair against a paper thin window. A colorful page of several inks was opened on his lap as the man glanced up to meet her stare, saying nothing. "I am sorry to inform you that there won't be any more baths this evening. I'm so sorry, but Jen is just too sick and –"

"This is the Sherriff's business, not mine." He simply replied. Her large gulp was unjustified.

"He is still in council with his physician, sire."

"Still?" A small hesitation fell between them, "Alright." She watched as Gisborne snapped his attention back to the story and placed a large hand on the back of his child's head. It was her cue to go. Guy, though, could not immediately return to the comfort he had found minutes before as the door creaked ajar by a few centimeters. With a heavy breath he rocked his weight from the dense seat and handed the book, still opened, to Drake. He paid no mind as he clicked shut the door and returned to the window. Drake, however, had lost interest. His hands were constantly fidgeting to the point where Guy stopped what he was doing and had to ask what was going on. The short boy easily shared his discovery, extending a palm that cushioned a golden carapace that was encrusted with sapphires. The shine was brilliant.

"Where did you get his?" he asked roughly, grabbing his son's wrist as he snatched away the jewelry.

"It was just right here, Daddy. I was gonna put it back, I swear." Drake slid a Bible across the side table to the patriarch of his family. The book had a worn and weary leather cover with a simple cross laid into it with cheap fabric, no doubt belonging to one of the clergymen. Neither he nor the Sherriff would be caught with this. Gisborne gave another glance to his boy before thumbing through the pages. Just before the halfway mark, the paper was stiffened together and refused to turn. The center of these pages had been carved out to create a hiding nook that was stuffed with luxury adornments; chains and jewels dripped out of where the word of God was supposed to be. Only a moment was provided for him to gander inside before the library door was again brought open. Guy's dry-skinned hand forced the cover closed and scooted it away back to the other side before two parishioners made their way inside. Michael Stockham led the party.

"Ah, Guy, Drake. I was not really expecting to see you." He rolled on his heels at the entrance before shuffling into the room. Gisborne felt his throat choking on the proper term to use – Father? Mr. Stockham?

"Sir," was what came out. Guy made sure to send a message in his hand on Drake's back to keep quiet, and it was well received.

"Surely you can understand I just need this, eh?" his father-in-law smiled lightly as his time worn arm extended to the aged Bible. Guy couldn't help but to sniff and cock his head.

"For church purposes I presume?" His words concealed a blade. Michael's facial expression remained unchanged as he brushed up the book and headed out with his silent companion. Drake actively pressed his elbows into his father's knees and opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by quite the serious tone.

"Go find your mother and practice your poetry." Dad used his business tone; that was certainly the end of the conversation. The heir to Locksley chewed on his tongue a bit and spun out to go find Lacie without a second thought to anything that had just transpired. Guy envied the fact that Drake was too young to put the pieces together; oh what he wouldn't sacrifice to live in that age of innocence and ignorance. The world was truly too dark a place to live for too long.

Gisborne meandered through winding corridors behind a glimpsed trail of golden robes with professional experience to this tailing mission. Being the shadow of another man is a learned habit that quickly loses its moral vices; neither the answers nor the blood at the end of the scouting could affect someone who had been at it for years. Snippets of Stockham's back would make an appearance at the next bend as Gisborne slyly pursued the curious churchgoer. In this cone of focus the black clad worker lost his awareness of surroundings and felt his heart drop to his intestines in a wall of shame and panic when a hand rested on his back. Fight or flight was no question as, without a second thought, Guy reflexed to the hilt of his sword and turned to defend his life.

Behind him, though, stood a pale and fatigued Sherriff Vesey; Gisborne's jaw cocked to the side whilst his body worked to wash away the adrenaline. A tiny pang of misery surfaced but didn't invade like the habit of before. The Sherriff and him had fallen into a sort of comfort zone as almost equals, which was never in a century what Guy would ever have expected to hear. But, just as unexpectedly, he had clawed himself from a bloody pit of thick mud and despair, a chasm of suicidal wishes and regret, a hole of violence and darkness and drew his flesh up into the sunlight of love and justified pride. He had found a point of happiness in Lacie and his child and stolen away Vesey's underestimations of him. The voodoo of manipulation had been ended. The tiny politician gave a cough before rubbing his neck and speaking.

"Gisborne, you have allotted the troops for Nettlestone, yes?" his question was naked and lacking any motivation whatsoever. Guy screwed up his eyes and analyzed his superior.

"Of course, it's all taken care of. I shall escort them out at dawn… my Lord, with frankness you do not look well at all." Vesey lent a nod and tucked his arms across his crumpled chest, revealing the sore on his neck. It appeared as a fleshy and swollen egg that absorbed curiosity. As Guy extended a hand, the Sherriff swatted it away.

"Don't touch it!" He spat in his usual character. With a huff he stormed off to his chambers to curl up in miserable malaise and, while he strode, Vesey wiped and rubbed and the dark dirt on his fingertips that would not wash away.

Guy scraped the ball of is foot along the stone floor in the realization that he had lost his target. With Lacie, though, it would not be too long before he saw Deacon Stockham again.


	22. Blood

The new Gisborne was responsible for hangings and executions, not murder. He worked to serve law, not blood-thirst. He made the choice and picked a life of love, not cruelty. His heart yearned now for peace, not power. And yet the crimson poured over his knuckles and painted down to his elbow. Gisborne could feel the warmth of the life that this blood held in it moments before and he could smell the iron smearing across his body. A faint gurgle kept him company in the dark and heavy room as the last of Deacon Stockham's blood pressure escaped. Gisborne watched the spark in his eyes vanish in the moment the man died before his boots. His fingers twitched on the handle of the dagger as his mind replayed the scene on loop.

"I am a man of God!" Michael Stockham chirped with a chuckle as he replaced a scroll on the shelf of the library. Curtains blockaded light that tried to filter in through the window panes and left only strips of sun in the room.

"You are a thief." Guy's voice growled in his chest, swelling at the rush of command.

"Guy, what would Lacie think if –"

"Where did you get it?" his stone words bashed his father-in-law's mouth into a thin line. With no reply, the aggression multiplied, "The jewelry, where did you get it, Michael?"

"From the people, but it is for the people!" his hand strategically maneuvered the false Bible further from his daughter's husband.

"You understand it is my duty to punish you for your crimes –"

"And what of the other's crimes, hm?" Stockham chided back, only to be met with a confused silence. He continued, "What do you think I need this for, boy? I have to desire for money or earthly possessions. It is to pay for the just punishments we are lacking."

"You counter thievery with thievery?" Guy snorted as a magpie zipped past outside, stealing the rays of light for a moment. Stockham shook his head and averted his eyes into a hard stare away from Gisborne.

"People are dying, Guy. In France, in Spain, how long do you think it is before it hits England? You're wrong, it's already here and it is crawling up, up into Nottinghamshire and up into our families. We must stand up against the sick bastards who are doing this and put an end to it. I refuse to watch my daughter's limbs rot off!" His tangent hit a lull.

"What the hell are you talking about you daft old man?" Guy barked. Strings of nonsense were infuriating him as Stockham began to waltz a circle around the room.

"Black boils, Guy. There is a curse of black boils being put on the people and it is the Church's duty to stop this; incantations and spells are unholy and sacrilegious. I fear it may take a war, but it will end."

"Your church already has a war in the Holy Land; isn't that enough for you?" Gisborne kept his folded arms close to his torso as he moved his head to witness the pacing of Michael.

"No, no, my boy. It's not the Saracens. It is the unholy and the wrong. It is the Jews, the scarred, and the lepers. How could you let those heinous creatures live if you knew they were throwing deadly lesions upon other people?"

A nerve had been pricked inside of Gisborne. His father was, indeed, a leper. Or rather – had been. He watched as Locksley apathetically slashed him from the community and gorged themselves on his misfortune. His ill skin forced him away into banishment without a goodbye and into hellacious camps in the forest. Guy could vividly recall following his father and finding the base of grotesque and dying lepers in the woods – he was terrified and sickened. Once adulthood had arrived, though, he could realize they were only diseased people. They did not deserve to be killed for that.

"If people are falling ill find doctors, not soldiers." He calmly asserted, "Lepers and Jews are not banding together to murder the world."

"You are naïve!" was Michael's retort, "I would rather cleanse humanity with God's grace than with their bad air that they are condemning people to."

Guy's icy eyes opened widely as he muttered, "You are trying to fund an extermination?"

He could still hear the fleshy stick as his dagger drove into the man's throat. The blade's edge cleanly sliced through skin and muscle and let out blood in an instant. It was all over so quickly…

He had stabbed Lacie's father to death.

Lacie – oh how she revered her father's release of self-interest. His devotion to his job may have hurt her, but it served as a lesson to her spirit. Guy abruptly tossed the knife aside and listened to it skid across the floor into a wall as he knelt down to his victim's corpse. Lacie's faith was pure and did not deserve to be marked by such an atrocity as Michael's plans and so, for her sake, he removed the collar of the clergy from the man's neck and set it out of the way. It was in this moment, with his arms wrapped around Stockham's body, that Lacie made her appearance.

How peculiar she thought it was that the shades were drawn – wasn't Guy in here reading to Drake? She could not really make out anything in the room except for her husband's familiar form because the darkness was plastered from wall to wall, so her eyes made a desperate effort to collect light through squinting her way to the window to yank back a curtain. Guy rested on his knees and harbored sorrow in his soul for her once the sun unveiled his doing. Cranberry stains reached from Gisborne's right hand all the way across his chest to the left shoulder from leaning over the empty cadaver and burned into both of their minds as a recall to his former self. But she did not care about any of that right now. There lay her father, clearly slain, in several liters of his own blood, pale and glazed over with nothingness. Only a small squeak escaped her lungs as she fell to her hands and knees.

Lacie was overwhelmed and under oxygenated in this shock of her life. She crept hesitantly to his side and laid her forearms on his ribs, cradling his face in her fingers with mouth agape and dry tears. Her creamy skin flushed hot pink as her mouth formed an open frown that gasped for something, anything, words, air, it didn't matter. Guy experimented with his placement in her heart by gingerly touching her silken hair and running through it a few times. This triggered Lacie to burst into howls and groans of animalistic mourning and savage failure of language. Her frame collapsed against Guy's chest and she clung desperately to his shirt as he pulled her ear to his heart. She did not ask anything, nor did her brain concoct the curiosity to know what happened.

For the first time in years Gisborne flashed back to Marian. He held her as she sobbed over her own father's dead self by a well just outside. He put his hand in her auburn hair, soothed her, tried to kiss her. But there was no fault on Guy for that death. His sadness in that frame was for Marian and her loss, the destruction of her world, and the breaking of her heart. This time claws tore at his stomach for taking what was Lacie's, crushing her world, and snapping her heart with his own hand. Guy pressed his lips to her scalp and shut his eyes.

"I am so sorry. I am so, so sorry." Was all he could repeat into her. They solemnly remained here for a good amount of time, if the loss of circulation in Guy's legs was anything to go by. Minutes dissolved away Lacie's tears and donated only silence.

"Did you do this?" She eventually whispered without moving a single muscle. Guy could not answer immediately.

"Lace… I… he was…"

"I don't want to know why, I don't care why, I just have to know… was it you?" Her feminine voice waivered whilst Guy set the noose in place and wrapped the loop around his neck.

"… Yes." Nothing more was said. The couple threw away time and created their own bubble to wither away in until somebody would come find them and continue their lives.


	23. Life and Death in Bed

Only a matter of days had passed and yet it was as if years separated them from the horrific event. Or rather, it seemed like it never happened at all. Were it not for brutal guilt that burdened Guy, he would easily have thought it was all just a nightmare that had ended with consciousness. No words were spoken about the Deacon's death for at least a week, but that could not sooth the sweating and writhing Guy endured each night in his bed. In the evenings when Lacie would retire to her chambers in the manor he would kiss her passionately and hold her arms tightly; he could only wonder what her angle was. If she did not mention it, was she suffering from an absence of anger? Or maybe it was a stage of grief. Worse off, Lacie could be harboring a swollen mass of resentment for her husband and his filthy deeds. No matter what he did or how hard he tried he kept falling into repeated patterns. Gisborne damned his own soul each night in the privacy of his mind.

As for this period of dusk, the couple sat closely at the dining table with intimacy burning in their eyes. They could easily sense each other's vibrations and resonate that warmth. Goblets of mostly drunk wine staled whilst the comforting silence boomed and soothed Guy's soul; feeling his wife's fingers playing with his long locks of deep hair could have lulled him to sleep for the first time in ages.

"I miss you." He whispered with a sultry hint. Lacie put her temple upon his shoulder with a grin.

"You silly boy, I have been here all along."

"I feel I have… forced you away with my actions." His naked honesty was met with silence.

"Please, Guy, I don't want to talk abou-"

"And that's fine. But I can't keep living while I lay these stone walls between us," Gisborne nuzzled her while she internally giggled; for such a strong and possessive man, alcohol gave way to his most poignant and romantic opinions that pride would otherwise shelter, "Lacie, would you stay the night with me? Keep me company in my bed and never let me miss you again." And so she took his hand and complied.

Stillness wandered through Locksley as Guy scratched his nose quite clumsily in the darkness. Morning was still hours away and so, unfortunately, was slumber. But not because he was plagued; rather because he did not want to miss this opportunity. His pupils could decipher Lacie's tender body curled up in the fetal position beside him. Her face was half buried in her fist but still so soft and innocent as she breathed deeply. They faced each other with Guy's palm cupped around the intake of her waist, fully clothed and without an absence of pure love. At some point along the way, Gisborne must have drifted off for the next thing he knew light was infiltrating the shut windows of his room.

Moments of fogginess met his mind as he came to consciousness. Guy felt the weight of Lacie's body in his bed and smiled. He tugged his torso across the mattress and pressed his hard chest into Lacie's back with a long and wet kiss on her neck. With a lazy wipe across her face, she turned to be forehead to forehead with the man of her dreams.

"Hi there." She windily greeted him. After a kiss, he replied: "Good morrow." She pushed her hips against him and instigated another affectionate locking of lips.

"Please, please hold no anger towards me. I could not take it." His eyes turned deer like as they widened and begged pardon. Her mouth tugged gently.

"I don't," Lacie responded with groggy blinks, "I do not blame you for anything."

"Lace…" he could not find the words to physically admit his ill doing.

"Sir Guy of Gisborne, I trust you. I trust you with my life, my son's life, and I would chain myself to the gates of hell to be with you. No matter what happened, what anybody said, I know in my soul that you made the best choice for this family; you always will." He chewed on her thoughts. After a moment she added, "You can never do wrong in my eyes."

Guy, too, was an object of her faith. This extinguished his mind.

"You love me?" his baritone voice asked. Her smile spread to him.

"Yes."

"You do?" he repeated with a drop of teasing in its core.

"Yes." Lacie chuckled. Gisborne pushed aside a wave of her hair and sat up, his upper body towered over her and only centimeters away. A devil's grin hit him just before he kissed her and rubbed his shadowy beard along her cheek. He swung his knee over her thin legs and straddled her with hands tenderly nestling her shoulders; his body no longer able to resist his gravitation to this remarkable woman.

"If you love me, you must prove it." He joked quietly to her as his grip slid down her frame to her curved hips. Lacie slid her arms under his and held his chest close to her.

"Prove it?"

"Mmhmm." He laughed in her ear. His lips were so warm on the side of her face that she floated away on a ferry of peace and could have easily tumbled back into dreamland, were it not of course for the endorphins that began bombarding her body at his sensual touch. Raising a child and dealing with a loss in the family had kept their skin separated for quite some time; both of them recognized that in only minutes that fact would change and be forgotten. Guy slipped his rough hands under her and gruffly tugged Lacie's pelvis to his in a loss of patience. She cupped her hands to his face and returned deep and long kisses with craving.

As her husband loosened her dressing shirt the gleam of a pink scar hit his gut with sadness – the mark looked to be fresh and slid down her sternum in a perfectly centered placement between her breasts. Gisborne was fully aware that this, however, was an old injury. It had occurred so long ago that he would fail to recall its existence until he saw her undressed. This wound fell upon her only days after they had been married in Nottingham market and still broke his heart; it was done to Lacie as a punishment for him. He was so tired of causing her pain and anguish. Guy traced it with remorse before realizing that his dwellings would massacre the mood he had itched to set all night.

Lacie was a golden child, though, and could always bring a smile to his face. In a flirty gesture she set her ankles on top of his and tucked her feet under his toes, interlocking them like hands with a grin and invitation. How rude it would seem, he thought, if he waved off entrance to an open door.

It was not long after their celebration of love that the Lady Gisborne drifted back into her peaceful subconscious. Her lips parted a bit as she breathed through her mouth in her sleep, which Guy found utterly precious. The most perfect things about her, he thought while buckling his trousers, were the things she didn't even realize she did at all. Her naked back shone in the sunlight of the early afternoon as he gently kissed her shoulder, hoping not to wake her. If it weren't for the knowledge that Drake was downstairs being taken care of by the staff he would have stayed with his lovely wife in this bed all day.

The youngster paid little mind to his parent's absence though. He had been working with Alice on washing linens and mending curtains – things Guy always found odd that his son enjoyed. He took after Lacie, though, so anything that kept the boy's hands busy was worth learning to him. Drake was in no way lacking a manly persona. Although only seven, he was quick to absorb Gisborne's alpha male stature and competitive nature. Learning combat, especially on horseback, was his favorite activity. But Lacie's genes had given him an appreciation for downtime and handiwork, something that frustrated her husband with boredom. Nonetheless Drake fiddled with a wadded up kitchen curtain whilst Alice stitched the other end of it as Guy descended the stairs on clouds. His satisfaction and joy were impossible to miss.

Gisborne leant over the back of the chair and crossed his arms over his son's chest, planting a kiss on his cheek. The boy giggled.

"Daddy!" Guy stuck out his tongue and ruffled his hair. Guy's locks had grown down nearly to his shoulders and developed loose curls that Drake envied. His mother had countless times drug him into the kitchen to chop some of her son's length off but he always got upset and claimed that he wanted Daddy's hair. These episodes would always give way to Guy arriving home and rescuing the boy, saying he can have his hair anyway he wanted. It was a regular fight that never became more than a teasing conflict, if anything else.

A knock came to the door and caught all of their attention. Without a moment of hesitation Drake leaped from his seat and bolted to the door, pushing Alice's thigh out of his way as she stood to try and do her job. The boy swung it open with enthusiasm and burst into a beam when he saw royalty on the porch. Prince John gave a regal smile and extended a hand, which the young noble grabbed with glee.

"Oh my goodness, it's Prince John! Daddy, it's the Prince!" John grinned with delight at the boy's passion. Being the son of Gisborne, he was no doubt raised to be faithful to John's cause rather than Richard's. But still, being wrapped in that warm blanket of affection fizzled his nerves a bit.

"Yes, it is. My Lord… I was not expecting you." Guy raised his eyebrows and lowered his chin a bit. He tried to deduce why John would come to his home instead of sending a petty messenger with a scribbled note. The Prince asked for no permission before taking a few steps into the manor, still clasping Drake's tender little hand.

"I'm afraid you're needed at the castle. The Sherriff… would like to say his final words to you." Alice gasped at the implication – Sherriff Vesey was on his deathbed. She was appalled by surprise but, secretly, thrilled. His reign of terror was at its end. Guy snapped to attention and hurriedly grabbed his leather jacket from the coat rack. He said nothing more as he rushed out to grab his horse and ride feverishly to Nottingham.


	24. Sacrifice

Hopefully you guys are not drowning in all of the chapters I am throwing up here! I have become bed-ridden with tonsillitis, so now I am finding an incredible amount of free time to let my imagination go. Hopefully you are still enjoying the story? Go ahead and send it critiques and comments at the bottom – make a sick girl's day!

Only a few candles flickered in the bedchamber of Vesey as the light had come to bother his eyes. His entire body ached with malaise and pain; little did he know that it was because his skin was dying while he still lived. His physician had failed him, but he no longer had the energy to be angry. He was fully aware that this was, indeed, the end.

Sir Guy of Gisborne calmly entered and found a weight on his chest at the sight of the Sherriff. The dim surroundings made it difficult to be certain, but with each step the ailment became more and more clear. Vesey's lips and nose were as black as Gisborne's clothing, and so were his fingers all the way down to where they met the palm. It was a God awful sight and stench that resided here. His lymph nodes were so swollen that swallowing was daunting as he tried to speak to his loyal companion.

"Gisborne," he muttered with fatigue and mushy consonants, "come."

A morbid fascination allowed him to kneel next to the bed. Guy flinched as Vesey's black fingers struggled to touch his shoulder. Both of their hearts hurt. They knew that whatever type of relationship it was that they created, it was severely dysfunctional. Abusive. The finer points of it were all about attempting to manipulate one another and humiliate the opposite player. But they could not deny that they held a father's and a son's role to the other man.

"Gisborne, my son, I know that it is my last day here," words were proving difficult for Vesey to get up his neck as Guy lightly shook his head, "Yes, yes, we won't lie to ourselves. That's why it is so important –" he grunted in a shot of pain "- important that you hear this. I need you to make me a promise. John… John must succeed. You cannot let Richard come back from war; you cannot let England fall back in his hands. Do not let our work go unfinished." His thoughts came rambling out faster as time progressed because he knew his wick was burning its last seconds away.

"I will not fail you." Guy swore with iron strength. Vesey tugged a small smile.

"Do not let your leper distract you." He shut his eyes and felt Gisborne reflect the grin, knowing that he meant what he said but also added the leper tagline as a joke. Only seconds passed before Vesey's heart pumped its final load.

As if in echo to the sobering mood, a torrential downpour of rain pounded the stone walls outside. Guy proceeded to the front hall, knowing he had seen Vesey for the last time since the physician was preparing the corpse now. At the exit stood Prince John propped against the door's bolsters. His face was covered in forward thinking with almost no recognition to the passing of the Sherriff. He gestured for the man in black to be seated at a nearby table and reciprocated after Gisborne reclined in a chair. Solemn silence parted them for a good while.

"Nottinghamshire is the strong point of our movement, Guy. Without this county, Richard will take back power."

"Yes." He numbly replied. His stare was focused at the floor.

"We need a Sherriff who will work and sacrifice for our cause… I have no doubt, my boy, that you are the perfect candidate." Guy shot his eyes up to meet John's gaze. He realized he must not have been thinking clearly; as second in command he was ensured the seat of Sherriff, but his mind had focused on less selfish aspects of this evening. It shocked even him to notice that his gain of power had been overlooked.

"My Lord…" a beam broke the somber atmosphere.

"Would you sacrifice for me?" John nearly begged, his eyebrows rising in a plea. No hesitation occurred before Guy's nod.

"Of course, Your Majesty." Pride swelled Gisborne's blood vessels; the moment had come. This is what he dreamed of his life being.

"And what, sir, are you willing to give?"

"Oh, anything. I will not let this cause fall apart."

"Anything?" The Prince smacked his lips and tapped his fingertips on the table, watching them dance. The way he pronounced that word froze Guy's breath.

"… Sire?"

"Your wife is a wonderful woman, isn't she? Very soft. Obedient. _Very_ pretty," A snake like expression appeared on John's face. Gisborne tensed and clenched his hands into white knuckled fists. Lacie? Lacie is what he would have to give for this title? He could draw no air into his lungs, "Well, is she a wonderful wife?"

"She is perfect." He snarled with protection in his voice.

"Mmmm, and such perfect skin. She is quite the trophy," he chuckled whilst envisioning the petite redhead, "A damn good trophy. Is she good at stitching?" Guy did not want to reply but he felt himself nod, "And is she great at singing?" Another nod, "And she's that perfect between the sheets, eh?"

Guy aggressively stood and kicked his chair back away from him, the legs of it screeching and skidding a few feet away.

"Oh, my good man, relax." Gisborne did not take this advice. Rather he stormed towards the door.

"Tsk tsk, Gisborne, it seems you forget who you're talking to. It would be a grave mistake for you to walk out right now, that I can guarantee." Guy could feel the marionette strings being sewn into his back; he was back to playing a game of pawns. He reluctantly turned back and faced Prince John but did not take any motion towards him. The royalty's smirk enraged him.

"Unfortunately, science dictates that we cannot gain anything without giving anything. A bit inefficient in my opinion. But you, Guy, you must be devoted to me to be Sherriff. You must want me to win, you must want me to be happy, you must love me… do you love me?" Guy shut his eyes and struggled to breathe.

"Yes." Was his whisper.

"Do you know what would make me happy, Guy? Seeing your wife naked and under my control, mmm, you must love having that," Gisborne's face twitched in fury as he tried to shut down his muscles from beating the Prince into bloody pulp on the ground, "If I get an evening with Lacie Gisborne… you get the title and riches of Sherriff of Nottingham. It is that simple, my boy."

Guy's hardened body swiftly left and continued outside with no slowing whatsoever. He did not acknowledge the stable boy nor did he take the time to adjust the saddle; he simply rode away back to his family. His treasure. He would rather die than lose them… but what of this new job opportunity? Sherriff of Nottingham, the position he had ached for for just over twenty years of his life. It was there, sitting plainly before him, and all he had to do was pick it up. In order to do that, though, he would have to let go of Lacie's hand. Hot tears of fury streaked down his cheeks as he rode through Sherwood at the fall of night.


	25. My Heart is Your Property

You know what would go really well with this ice cream and soup diet? Reviews! Especially because I despise soup… make it bearable!

"Go!" Lacie laughed while waggling a finger towards Drake's bedroom. Her son dashed out from the doorway for the fifth time.

"One more hug, Mummy." He wrapped his arms around her thighs and snuggled his face into her dress, absorbing the maternal scent that he had been programmed to adore.

"That's what you said two hugs ago." Lacie retorted playfully as she tugged his hair. She took her slender hands and lifted the boy into her chest and carried him to bed. He was tall for his age, which was no surprise given how his father towers over other men, but this rapid growth was making it more and more difficult for Lacie to pick him up. Her little boy was becoming a big boy. She unrolled the woolen blanket and pulled it up to Drake's chin as she kissed his forehead for the evening.

"Will Daddy be home soon?" he asked while curling fists into the hem of the sheet.

"Oh, honey, I'm not sure. But he will be here in the morning when you come down for breakfast." With one last brush of his cheek she blew out the candle and closed the room. Coming down the stairs she saw Guy coming in, notably distraught, and with a scowl that brought wrinkles to his forehead and mouth. Each time she saw the wrinkles birthed it deeply saddened her; Guy had reached his forties. She hated to think that in only a few years he would be turning gray and growing weaker. That seemed impossible for such a strong man as Gisborne.

"Guy," she chirped with whimsy in her heart. Their passionate morning left her wanting nothing more than to be enveloped in his loving arms and pulled close. She could not imagine how unsettled he was. Alice had warned Lacie of Vesey's passing and so she anticipated having to cheer him up – nothing her lips couldn't ever fix.

He proceeded, however, to tear his jacket off and toss it on the couch without acknowledging his wife. Prince John's blackmail stuck to his skin like glue and terrorized him in every breath. Lacie ran on her tip-toes and got behind him, pinching his hips. She scratched her nails on his shoulder blades and said his name again. Guy sharply turned and grabbed her shoulders, scanning her creamy round cheeks, watching her big green eyes glisten with affection. She loved him and wanted him, and he needed her. His palms went just above her breasts and pushed her back forcefully to the wall multiple feet behind her. His body felt Lacie almost tripping as she was shoved backwards and into the wooden side. Perfect skin. That was what John said he admired most about her body. He looked over the milky glass of her flesh and became possessive. Gisborne kissed her – hard. His mouth nearly hurt her it was so forceful. He tucked his chin into the nook of her neck and pulled her into him. Lacie rubbed his back and held him like she did their son, with tenderness and understanding.

"I am so sorry you lost him," she whispered with caress. His reply didn't miss a beat.

"I could have been Sherriff," Guy answered with sorrow seeping out. His hands roamed her body selfishly but with adoration; he was marking her as his.

"Oh, honey, did you fight with Vesey? Or does he have a bloodline heir?"

"It's John," Gisborne spat. He left her and paced the living room like a caged animal, and in a sense he was. Guy could go anywhere he wanted, but on any piece of this earth the bars of his situation would be welded around his brain, "He will not allow me to be Sherriff." Lacie frowned and cocked her head.

"He likes you much more than Vesey," she observed.

"He requires that I give him….. he requires a donation. A symbol of my devotion to his cause."

"Money is not an object for us, Guy. Don't be so proud that you pass up –"

"He is the Prince of England, Lacie, he does not need money." Rage began to ball up like yarn in his throat. She turned the cogs in her head and came up empty.

"Well, he is the Prince. There is honestly nothing else he needs because he has everything. What could you possibly give him that he doesn't already have?" Poor Lacie, Guy thought. She was too innocent to concoct such a dark bargain as the one presented earlier that evening. He stared at her with his lips pursed tightly between the rows of his teeth. Lacie exaggerated the angle of her chin more, "Me? He wants…. A wife?" Gisborne fell onto the closest chair and hid his face in his gloves.

"He wants you, alright. He wants your company."

"Just a date?"

"A night… in his bedchambers." Guy peeked between his digits to see as her jaw dropped; Lacie blinked several times to comprehend it.

"Oh… I see."

"I'm not going to do it, Lace. I am not going to hand you to him." Guy leaned back and let out a deep sigh. His subconscious had answered this puzzle for him; he didn't even think before swearing to protect her innocence. He would not allow her to be defiled, even if the most important day of his life was at stake.

Lacie calmly pushed his elbow from his thigh at sat upon his lap. Her buttocks perched perfectly on his legs as she pointed her toes and slung her slender arms around his neck. It was no wonder, Guy thought to himself, that John thirsted so badly for her body, for heaven's sakes she was breathtakingly magical. He laid his hands on her hips as he returned her stare. She watched the shine in his eyes in the quiet.

"I will do it." She said with dead seriousness. Gisborne's eyebrows furrowed and he bolted up.

"No, you will not. I will be damned if you are to-"

"No, you will be Sherriff. And our son will be raised in Nottingham and given wonderful education and experience for when he inherits the title from you." His grip on her tightened.

"I will not allow you to do something so absurd!" he shouted into her face.

"My heart is your property forever and always, but my body is my own." She coolly defended.

"I do not want to have to lock you up to keep you here." Guy begged. Nervously her fingers fidgeted with the collar of his thinly woven shirt, barely feeling the fabric as her mind digested their dilemma. Without another word she kissed him romantically, starting with a peck, waiting for his lips to part and make room for hers to interject. It took no time at all for him to respond and open his mouth for hers to fit perfectly in the middle. His tongue found its way to hers and, with a giggle, she matched it. After a minute Lacie pulled back, smiled, and went to her bed. Being a perfect wife would require her to sacrifice her own soul to eternal damnation, this she knew – but it would not stop her from making him happy.


	26. Future of Gold

The next day was filled with secrecy. Lacie spent the afternoon in Guy's chambers, calmly folding clothes for his satchel. Her husband was to be spending time in Nettlestone to oversee the final stages of his soldiers' camp. Vesey's sudden and violent illness had postponed the multiple bases of Nottingham being constructed on the outskirts of the Sherriff's territory, but now, after his passing, the project was able to be resumed. With no clear Sherriff in mind, though, it was a territory grab for whosoever was lucky enough to be next. Lacie Gisborne was the only person in England who knew for sure which man would be next in line, for only she knew what she planned to do after her husband left town.

Guy returned home from last minute review just long enough to snag his belongings and say goodbye to his family. Drake was not so prepared, though, to let his father head out of town for a week. If a topic or idea could make its way into the child's head he would spew it out and demand an answer from Gisborne. After he and the stable boy secured the last bag to the stallion, Guy knelt down and hushed his son with a finger to the lips and heavy chuckle. The boys had a tender embrace before Drake was sent back inside. Lacie wrung her hands together nervously and held a plastic smile for him. Guy, of course, was too caught up in work to notice her poorly executed lying. The humble girl couldn't ever get a fib through her teeth without dead giveaways interrupting. Luckily, though, she didn't have to tell a non-truth, she just had to keep her mouth shut. A kiss and a wave later, her husband was gone and she could take matters into her own hands.

Alice had not been told the reason, but she had instructions to stay in the manor this evening with young Drake and get him into bed on time and be sure he stayed put. She dared not grumble about how she wasn't a babysitter. Supper time came and went without Lacie taking more than a bite; she didn't have the stomach for food, she would rather just get her martyr work over with. Once darkness fell, Lady Gisborne drew a deep red cloak from her closet and rode off to Nottingham, ignoring her second thoughts and selfish desires to avoid Prince John. It was for Guy, she reminded herself, it was for her family.

The metal clad guards at the front gates of Nottingham castle were well acquainted with Lacie's visage. Without hesitation they drew open the barrier and kindly welcomed her into the courtyard. Her grim expression was slightly off-putting to the man responsible for tending to her steed, but he did not think anything of it. After all, could you smile if you were married to Sir Guy of Gisborne? Lacie did not speak a word in her arrival and she held her silence through the stone corridors of the castle. She was already familiar with where the Prince would be for he was a creature of habit; on each visit he would expect nothing less than the largest and most decorated room available. Lacie made only slight scuffles as her flat shoes ascended the winding stairs up to John's chambers. With a heavy gulp she tapped her knuckles to the wood and awaited a response. On the other side of the door she was met with a twisted grin.

"Well if it isn't the sweet Lacie," John harmoniously played. He was dressed in casual clothing that still boasted his wealthy stance in society. He was, of course, taller than her, but not so much as Guy.

"My Lord," she softly spoke, "I wish to visit you." He took in a sharp breath and gaped the doorway open to make room for her, but kept his body in the same place so that she had to rub against him to enter. She was just as soft as he had anticipated. John shut the door and waltzed proudly to the center of the room, stroking his chin momentarily, and then swiftly facing her.

"There is no doubt you have spoken with your husband?"

"He has informed me of your wishes." She answered with gravel in her throat. This whole idea disgusted her, but a good wife would sacrifice herself for her husband any day.

"I see," John delightfully rung as he came to her, "Hmmm and yet here you are, Lady Gisborne." He placed his hands on the sides of her arms and stroked down to her wrists with giddiness. His finger went to the neckline and untied the bow holding her cloak on, allowing it to slip off and show her body in its fitted gown. "I must say, I am glad he has learned to share his toys." With this comment he leaned in to kiss her, but Lacie turned her face just enough to avoid it. None of her wanted this.

"I am doing this for Guy," she concretely stated, "He deserves to be Sherriff."

"Oh and honey, he will be," England's prince swore with a caress down her cheek.

"He does not know I am here… he does not approve," she frowned, but this didn't bother John at all. He reached to hold her hand but she flinched away, causing him to grab after it and command it.

"Do you love him?" John foolishly asked of her.

"Of course!" Lacie spat, "More than anything."

"More than me? Your Prince?" John chided, seeming to take offence. Lacie was dumbfounded by the fact that he expected her to say no.

"Yes. Much more… I am only doing what is necessary to put him in his rightful office." John scoffed at this and marched to the other side of the room, pulling wine from a shelf and filling a goblet without hesitation to the rim. As the moments passed, Lacie felt her heart dragging and wishing she hadn't come – Guy had been right.

"Well, with an attitude like that, he is not going anywhere but down."

"He has been second in command to the Sherriff without a lapse in loyalty for over a decade. You have no ground to take this from him just because –"

"Because what? His mouthy wife?" the Prince set down his cup and stormed to her. Lacie realized that she had indeed lost control of her tongue, but was it such a bad thing? She had a point. Besides, all of this was childish and impractical. She decided to be Gisborne's mouthy wife after all.

"It seems to me, Your Highness, that you have already made up your mind and it is wrong," she was losing her temper quickly in this uncomfortable situation, especially when he shoved a finger in her face, "for I dare you to find someone more loyal to you than Sir Guy to run this county."

"Madame, you had best think of what you are doing-"

"I am. And what I am doing is my husband's will. I refuse to submit to you and your blackmail when you have no one else to fill the office. I expect that when Guy returns he will be Sherriff." They held a steely glare for one another. John looked upon his hand and realized that the card he was in fact missing was what he would do without Lacie's obedience. He became horrified once it clicked in his brain that she was right – who else could run this place under his finger? That detail was supposed to be overlooked. He was bluffing and it was called.

"I could bring someone from London to take care of it, I have no need for Gisborne," he fibbed. As a tragic liar herself, Lacie saw through the sham.

"Who?" she asked with coldness.

"Well, it is none of your business."

"I must know who to welcome to Nottingham." Her eyebrows went up and she realized what was happening: she was in a game of charades acting out her husband. Playing Gisborne now was her only hope of getting what she wanted while fully dressed. Both of them hit a wall and knew she had won for John was poorly equipped. He bit his lip and clawed at the edge of this cliff for ground to come out on top.

"Well, if I am to stick Guy in office, I demand –"

"You will get nothing from us!" Lacie loudly blurted in a high tone, "Appointing my husband is going to gain you a county. That is all you need." And with that, the skirmish was won. John looked away from the fiery redhead.

"I will see what I can do for him." He sighed. Lacie gave a curt nod and grabbed her cloak. She began to exit when, feeling empowered, she turned and put on a mask of Guy. It was iron and threatening, even from a five and a half foot woman.

"You can expect him from Nettlestone on Thursday." With that she burst from the room and took strong steps to the stairs. Upon reaching freedom, though, her costume disintegrated and she let her emotions wad into calamity. It had all happened so fast! She realized it was only by luck that she hadn't been cast down into the dungeon to rot until Guy returned. She still could not believe that she mouthed off to the Prince of England; who does that? Lacie gained a high from the knowledge that she had won, that Guy had won. He was to be Sherriff all along. This was just John's attempt at getting a sweetener, but he failed. Lacie looked back to the day when she married the noble of Gisborne – never had she thought she would be the Sherriff's wife. And yet here it was, the rise of her family into immortal power. She could not wait to get home and hold Drake to her chest, knowing that his future would be of nothing but gold.


	27. Sherriff Gisborne

"Are those the sacks of grain from Clun?" Gisborne's brow furrowed with iron stance. Two clanking guards immediately whipped their spines into alignment and turned to see the Sherriff who had stood over them on the balcony without a word, no doubt seeing their nips of a flask and idle watch of a cart of bags. New uniforms had become doled out to the protectors of Nottingham. Now, rather than just the elite guard of Gisborne's, each man was trimmed in yellow and black with sturdy chainmail. Gisborne's reign had begun.

"Er, yes my Lord."

"Well get them to storage then." Guy's voice was hard as he did a condescending sweep with his arm to brush off the wagon. The men did as they were told and gave the new Sherriff time to return to his leisurely Sunday.

No one was quite sure what to expect of the new circumstances in the county; Gisborne had held office for just over three months, so it was still too green to dictate. His marriage and residential family life in Locksley had undoubtedly melted and mellowed him but he was in no way a push over. Just because he hadn't maimed a farmer in the public eye recently didn't mean he had lost the capability. In fact, this void of violence was a bit of a concern to the people of the villages. Was it bottling up to launch in a critical event? Several men were convinced that drinking from this bottle of power would set Guy back into his mold of the castle and allow the leather skin to crawl back into a shield. But as for now, there were no answers.

The olive colored scarf that covered Lacie's head pulled back her hair and showcased her soft and glowing youth. She had reached the stage where no matter which dress she wore it was apparent that she did, in fact, have a baby under the cloth. Her pregnancy made her appear even younger, Guy thought, not that she ever seemed to age. Lacie was destined to be dainty and childlike forever. Upon entering the hall Gisborne admired how glassy and perfect his life had become; with the title of Sherriff and a second baby on the way, how could he not be infused with a near drunken bliss? Drake could not keep his hands off of Lacie's belly. It was firm with life and wonder that he was only just becoming old enough to understand.

"That's my brother?" he regularly asked his parents with excitement. Guy joined his family and reclined on an overly stuffed lounge chair as this question was presented again.

"Maybe a sister. We will know in a few months." Lacie robotically replied as usual with the pattern answer that made its way out after the ninetieth repeat of the inquiry. Drake drummed his growing palms on Lacie's stomach one last time before shoving loose locks of hair from his eyes and going to his father, helping himself to the Sherriff's lap.

"So, Daddy, is this whole castle yours?"

"Yes." Guy donated and excited grin. Yes it was! All of it, finally, ultimately and undisputedly his. The man who had created a false title of a French county to mend his wounds had, in fact, taken possession of the entirety of Nottingham. And this county was still growing. If only his father Roger of Gisborne could see him now.

"So, when you die, is it mine?"

"You planning something?" Guy joked, narrowing his eyes. A zing buzzed the air as the witticism went over the boy's head. "One day, Drake, you will be Sherriff of Nottingham. It will be your job to rule this land with honor according to King John."

"And according to the people who you will love in return for their loyalty." Lacie stared into her husband's eyes without a fidget. He sniffed a bit and shrugged off her addition; both of them were aware that it was nothing personal. In a matter of months Guy had taken hold of Nottinghamshire and John had acquired the throne, not to mention Richard's defeat in the Crusades had dissolved Robin Hood altogether. It was very real to the Gisbornes that a looming danger of pride threatened to trip the Sherriff.

It was impossible, though, for anyone to predict that Guy would actually be unraveled by an outsider whose pursuit began on this very day in Clun.


	28. Nights in Nottingham

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"I expect you will pay these taxes on time next season. I don't want to have to make it hard for your family, Paul." He said, clicking the last lock of the handcuff open. The peasant Paul nodded solemnly as his hands were freed from his 72 hour detainment in the jails of Nottingham castle. He stared into blue eyes flecked with gold and sincerity; taxes were not so severe as when Vesey ruled, but paying full amounts was still a dream for down on luck farmers.

"Thank you, Sir Drake. Don't be offended when I say I hope not to see you or your father anytime soon." Paul gruffly said his goodbye. Drake laughed and patted his hand hard on the worker.

"We don't want to see you much, either." With that, the man was free to go. Drake cast the shackles aside to the bin where available pairs waited to break the hearts of criminals before locking up the newly empty cell. He wiped the grime from his palms onto tan trousers and scuffled out of the dungeons; even though he had lived in this castle for eight years, dank pits of despair, sweat, and melted wax can never be called a home. He was only able to cover a few dozen meters before running into his father under an outdoor archway. The years and the strain had coaxed gray hairs to become a part of Gisborne's sideburns, but he did not look very different at all from when Drake was a small child.

"Did you get the rest of the men out to Derbyshire?" Guy inquired immediately upon spotting his son. They continued until meeting up at a corner that overlooked the courtyard with Drake folding his arms.

"Yes, of course. You asked me to do it this morning, and I did. All men accounted for, the camp should be full by sundown tomorrow," Guy nodded and gazed out into the vacant entryway, "Dad, relax."

"There should be nothing to worry about." He answered. Gisborne was not particularly high strung, but now that Drake had grown into a fifteen year old Guy was lending over more and more tasks. They were all being achieved with stellar effort and results. Guy knew he had raised his son to be a man he would be proud of but it was still hard to share authority; at some point, he knew, he would have to give this entire job over. But that is a hard concept for someone driven by power and egotism.

"Just got Skinner out."

"The wife finally paid bail, eh?"

"Julie," Drake hastily said, "His wife's name is Julie Skinner." Guy jutted his chin to the side and sniffed.

"I get enough of that from your mother, don't start now." He lowly replied. The boys had a chuckle together; Drake had always liked that even when his father joked he wore a serious face.

"Speaking of, is Mum still out?"

"They just came back for supper. You prepared to join us?" Gisborne put his hand on the back of Drake's neck as the young man nodded, then they marched in tandem step to the dining hall.

The table was adorned with fresh fruits and loaves of slaved over bread that left an imprint in the air. The servants were topping off cups of wine when the Sherriff came to take his seat at the head of the table.

"All I'm saying is I don't remember you taking me out and buying me this many clothes when I was a kid." Drake loudly poked, watching his mother out of the corner of his eye. Lacie was already seated and dropped her hands to her lap with raised eyebrows at this quip. With a joking flavor she gave her son a warning look.

"Oh trust me, she did." Guy pitched in. His clear blue eyes were pools of joy when he watched his wife and daughter react. Lacie stroked through her child's hair a few times with her fingers.

"Don't listen to your brother, he is just being a stupid boy."

"Well you know," Margaret matter-of-factly stated, "You are welcome to come shopping for dresses with me and Mummy next time. We will get you something pretty." Drake was seated across from his eight year old sister at this point and rolled his eyes. She casually stuffed almonds in her mouth after sweeping aside raven hair with vibrant red undertones that burst in the sunlight, not missing a beat before any quips. Margaret was young but intelligent and witty; Guy was certain she would grow to be a heartbreaker. If he had put much thought into it, he would have realized that his daughter actually reminded him quite vividly of Maid Marian. She was sharp tongued and hinting at stubborn. Guy sucked the juices from a nectarine off his thumb before converting the topic.

"Drake, what is the word from the blacksmith? You know I need those cells replaced by the end of the month –"

"No, no, no," Lacie interjected almost immediately, "No business at the dinner table. You know that." At thirty five Lacie had fallen comfortably into the role of a woman who was set in her ways. After sixteen years of marriage, Gisborne had fallen into knowing his beautiful wife always had the last word on his actions. He put up his hands in surrender and continued the meal. The rest of the evening in Nottingham castle evaporated and, before they were aware, black had begun to gobble up sunlight and blanket the town.

"Margaret, I think its best we get you prepared for bed." Lacie mentioned with the last drink of wine. The young blood patched on a sour face and kicked her feet at the stool, glancing to her father for an opportunity to stay up. Was there anything to do? Of course not. But what child honestly wants to sleep for the night?

"Well what if Daddy or Drake need water? They are gonna be working late, I should stay up and bring them something." Even she heard the thinness of this excuse and sighed. Guy, with a grin in hand, spread apart his arms and waved his baby girl over. She complied and pressed her forehead into his heart.

"If you don't get your rest, how am I supposed to take you out for archery training after breaking your fast?"

"Oh that's great, Daddy!" Margaret hugged the troubled man tightly. After a kiss she and Lacie were off to throw on a dressing gown and soak in a warm bath to help pale the skin, quite a common practice for girls of their status. Guy scratched his nose and retrieved several parchment scrolls to splay out across the table. Being Sherriff was no cakewalk, but even though he was a fan of complaining, Gisborne adored his work. This is where he and his family belonged.

That night held little sleep for the men of the Gisborne clan; and unfortunately for them the next day would demand more energy than they could have foreseen.


	29. Drake, Get Out

Rays from the sun were pounding into the streets of Nottinghamshire on this particular Thursday. Considering it was northern England, the heat wasn't so awful. Considering the garb of the day, nobody wanted to spend too much time outside lest they cooked inside their own skin. But that would not stop him. Realistically this heat wave would be only one minor hurdle in this quest – things were bound to become much more difficult. He knew, however, that he was right. The Sherriff was required to acknowledge that.

The journey through Sherwood Forest was at the worst unpleasant. With the defeat, and death, of Richard the Lion Heart, Robin Hood and his band of criminals had withered apart like the petals of a water deprived tulip, making way for miscreants to roam the roads as they had before. Under Gisborne's hand, though, fewer people were cast out into desperation and excommunication. The odd bandit here and there had tried their best, but he was skilled. Maybe it was heritage, or maybe it was his training to exact his revenge. Either way he cleared the woods and set eyes upon the dawning castle towers. Gray stone pillars soared onto the horizon and eclipsed swollen clouds to mark the authority of the state. He had arrived.

"It will need to be all the way out there by dusk is that understood?" Drake loudly proclaimed across the courtyard to several guards. The rays gleamed off the armor and bounced about in all directions. A few nods and several agreements made the young Gisborne satisfied enough to leave them to their duties, supervising in silence. Many of the patrol men were too new to remember a time under the iron first of Guy and Vesey; fortunately for Drake, he never heard the horror stories. Guy had smothered and buried his past in the foundation of his family's home, never to let it take another breath against him, nor to mark his children. Outside the wooden drawn gate Drake noted a tall man with dark blond hair chatting to the doorman. He was dressed in peasant's cloth with the unmistakable pattern of light chainmail imprinting the garments from below. And yet no weapon…

"I told you, I have to see the Sherriff." He growled with impatience at the guard's head shake.

"And I told you, 'e is a busy man who goes by appointments. Come back next Tuesday for a council."

"It is about Vesey." He juicily added, sweetening the deal with a narrow glance. This caught the ear of the defender, but he wasn't too sure how to move forward. Luckily Drake had been magnetically drawn over by the suspicious protective gear that was hidden to an untrained eye.

"And what of Vesey do you know?" he entered the conversation with arms folded across and chin up in a prideful image that hauntingly mirrored his father.

"That is for the Sherriff to know." The mystery man spat, regretting his temper being so short. He could not blow this now. He could taste his victory. Drake ignored the black curl that wind had drawn across his forehead and, with a licking of his lips, waved the man through. His palm, though, resided on the hilt of his sword the entire pace through the castle. Only one hallway was left before hitting the Sherriff's office as Gisborne's son halted the visitor.

"What is it you wish to speak to the Sherriff about?" They held steely mistrust for each other plain view, but Drake had no idea that it was all personal to him.

"Like I told you, it regards Vesey and your father's appointment."

"That answer is not good enough." Drake didn't hesitate to add drops of authority to his words. The men fell silent as a pair of chambermaids passed, both their eyes trailing after with their desire to keep this conversation quiet. It was in this stillness that Sir Guy of Gisborne made his entrance. He rounded the corner with a set of scrolls tucked under his arm before quickly latching onto Drake's activity. He didn't like strangers; never did.

"What's all this, then?" he penetrated the newcomer and received the same.

"He came to speak to you about the former Sherriff." Drake shifted his weight as Gisborne said nothing. After tension infiltrated the corridor Guy nodded his head to the right, signaling the group into the office. He did not offer wine or any other accommodations, nor did he formally introduce himself, he simply set the scrolls aside and sat behind the deep wooden desk and waited for the man to speak. The visitor scratched his nose and strolled over to one of the walls, fingering at the velvet curtain.

"Let's get this over with," he said with a strain of boredom, "I expect you to give me sixty percent of your revenue from today forward and room and board in this castle. Let's not forget body guards at my disposal." The man and Drake both shot glances directly at Guy, who did not do so much as twitch an eyelid.

"Oh really?" he flatly gave.

"Oh yes... You never asked my name."

"I never cared." Guy gave back without a second of hesitation.

"… Seth. My name is Seth – and I think you will find it is Seth of Gisborne." He vocally charged. Guy stood up as a heat jolted his body and tore the stomach from his abdomen.

"Drake, get out."


	30. How Dare You?

Concrete poured into the Sherriff's office and solidified the air. Seth held his gaze with affirmation to his heritage and tapped his fingertips along the stone wall, never watching anything besides his biological father's mind race. His raven hair reflected Gisborne's. Guy, meanwhile, sat in a universe of limbo. He was completely unsure of whether he was in pain, shock, or even regret. He sensed a vacuum develop in his stomach and absorb all emotion or rational thought. This black hole took away all opinions of his wife or career and left only barrenness. His expression, though, was stone and utterly unchanging.

"So then, Daddy, sixty percent of profit and a cozy room. What a deal, eh?" Seth smugly forked over to him. He extended a rough hand to Gisborne for a shake; he saw no other alternative for the Sherriff to execute. Guy examined this entire figure that claimed to hail from his DNA and found too many similarities: the calloused hands from labor as an illegitimate farmer, the dark hair, the towering stature, it terrified him. Seth had become nothing but a shadow in a distant eclipse of his memory; now he had his own children, one of which was grown and the other was not far behind. Yet here he stood. The weight of the bastard child fell on top of him yet again.

"You have no right to anything." Guy eventually answered as he blinked and shook his head. His first son scoffed at this concept.

"Oh really, Sherriff? You are my father, and not only that, I am your first born child. Son no less! I have a right to everything."

"You are a child out of wedlock; your rights to anything are invalid." Guy dryly outlined. He stood with his palms shoved into the wooden top of his desk, shoulders hunched, teeth bared. Seth cornily pondered the idea.

"Hmmm… Well, looks like we disagree. Who should we ask for the tie breaker, your wife? How about your kids? Oh, let's tell the people of this city and see what they think!" Seth gestured theatrically, but the attitude did not penetrate Gisborne's skin. That hide was toughened by Vesey before he was even born. The dilemma, however, burdened him. This was blackmail at its finest. Guy had to decide whether he would surrender all the gravy he received as Sherriff or lose his family, and subjects, with betrayal, secrecy, and filthy behavior.

"Seth…" Gisborne lamely managed to get out whilst shaking his head.

"I will give you until tomorrow evening to make up your mind; surely you understand the haste."

"Surely you understand I will have you chained to the ground in my dungeon." Resentment permeated the phrase as Guy strode to the door and commanded guards to infiltrate the area. Seth, though, was unbothered.

"Tomorrow I shall live like a king," he assured his father, "so what is a night in jail, eh?" As he was led out, Guy put up a hand and paused the guards from proceeding momentarily.

"You choose now. You wait until I am successful and come to tear it away from me; and yet I am the vile one for having a son?"

"You are the horrific one for leaving my mother cast out in Clun and never providing a cent for your child! Heed me, your mistakes will conquer you." Seth foreboded with notable threat, leading the guards to yank him from the room for endangering the Sherriff. Gisborne let the door hang ajar as the scene tumbled into nonexistence as time continued without him. He clenched the peppering sides of his hair and had a short burst of vocal frustration break free, eyes searching manically for something to shatter on a wall somewhere. He decided that a small figurine of an dog would do nicely and with little thought he slammed it against the stone; pieces flew in each direction like tiny airplanes of rage. Gisborne turned back to the door when his animalistic instinct detected eyes watching him.

Those eyes were a beautiful green and they were very concerned. Lacie shuffled the waist of her daffodil dress with a mild smirk to her husband. Guy found it impossible to look into her rounded face; the shame overwhelmed him and kidnapped the oxygen from his lungs.

"What's happened, my love?" she asked with an extra assertion of gentleness. Lacie's mind dictated that she hesitate going in that room with the mad man and demolished artwork. Gisborne said nothing; rather he put his elbow flat against the wall and rested his head next door, blatantly ignoring her question. After a still second he banged it in to the side of the room and sent a jolt through Lacie. She rushed to her husband and put a tender touch to his forehead, pulling his face over to see the woman he never wanted to let down. If his wife was not mistaken, tears were being shoved back down into his eyelids.

"I cannot tell you." He said breathily without seeing her. The little redhead squeezed her grip in on his face and became less adorable.

"Guy, you can tell me anything. Quit being ridiculous."

"I cannot tell you…" he had to swallow to cancel out a wave of emotion, "I cannot tell you because I cannot live my life knowing that you hate me." At this time he brought his crystal blue eyes to glance into her expression.

"I could never hate y-"

"I have done something so despicable, so putrid, so… so awful that I do not deserve your love or forgiveness." Gisborne held her temples and kissed her hairline with sorrow, knowing that she would likely never allow him that near again. He decided that he had to tell her what had happened. All of it. Every revolting truth about his first son would either get to her from him or another mouth; he was not, however, prepared to watch her heart snap.

"I will listen without judgment, just as a wife should." Lacie assured him. Gisborne drew in air with a greed that could not cure the famine.

"I have a son. A son that is not Drake," Guy looked down to her clavicle to avoid any glares, "It was long before I met you. You changed my life, Lace, you brought me a happiness I have never known. You showed me that virtuosity is more than grand and that I should be a good man. But… But before I knew this I was… involved with one of my maids. She produced a son and I gave him to an orphanage," Guy shut his eyes at the lie and decided to go all in, "No, no I didn't. I abandoned him and his mother and they ran off to Clun. I never even thought about him again. Now he wants money or else he will slander our name, Lace. I am so so sorry." Silence punched the Sherriff's office. Gisborne did his best, but a handful of tears found their way down to his chin. His clammy fingers held desperately to his wife.

"I know." Lacie eventually called out into the quiet. Her husband snapped his head up to see her serene face and borderline bored appearance.

"What?"

"I know… about Seth." She explained without any enthusiasm. It was as if she was repeating a line she had learned for a play and recited a thousand times; it held no emotion or sensitivity that was her trademark.

"Lacie…" Guy stood straight and felt his eyes burn with swelling fury and misunderstanding, "what are you saying?"

"I have known –"

"And you said nothing?" he barked at her, "how dare you hide that from me?" Gisborne's hands gripped her shoulders and vaguely shook her in an outlet of his pent up temper.

'How dare you hide that child from me?" She directly fired back with a torpedo. He spat at the rebuttal, knowing Lacie was right in every sense, and trudged to the other end of the office. Here he decided to brood and drink from his own bottle of grief.


	31. Claim Another

Thoughts? Throw 'em in the review box at the bottom. Let's hear them! I also apologize for the delay in story progress. I have started another story and my father has had an emergency that landed him in the hospital, so my time at this blazingly bright laptop has been limited. I have not forgotten you my dearies!

Summer was raging across the terrain of Nottingham, and it was especially noticeable as the burning sun hung at its peak in the skyline. Blades of grass sat shamed with their tips cooked brown in the heat. Lacie looked out at the lake of fire through the window on the third level as her children played on the flagstone floor of the lounge room. Margaret was seated on the ground with lady like posture, her hands bouncing around small woven dolls in hand crafted dresses, her spine erect just like her mum had showed her. Drake set aside his looming adulthood and kept his young sister company; even the most masculine of society would keep a slice of time to play dolls with a little girl. The dark haired children were becoming increasingly louder as Lady Gisborne watched time drift off into oblivion. She found herself petrified at the anguish her husband had stumbled upon yesterday and exhaustingly worried for his status. A reputation is a shadow that clings to man's heels regardless of the amount of light in a room and, if Seth got his way, they would rot away into poverty and degradation.

"But he is Prince John's knight!" Margaret laid out for her sibling, "He has to fight before he can marry her."

"Yeah, that sounds about right. All women want something from ya." Drake muttered as she nudged away his doll with her own, forcing him over towards the imaginary stable. He noticed Lacie toss over a weak grin at his remark. They locked eyes for a moment, both of them stuck on the golden flecks that mark both of their retinas, and had a soft moment. He was so close to fully grown. Lacie still appeared young; this is partly because she still was. She looked only more tired recently. Drake abandoned this idea as a knocking came to the door. In came a chambermaid after a welcome call, her long blonde hair tied up in red ribbon. Margaret instantly knew she had to have her locks styled this way as well.

"I have some drinks for everybody." The worker said with a warmth that she seemed to resonate each day in the castle. It reminded Drake of his mother. The blonde went first to the matriarch with a cup of heavy red wine, then to Drake with a mug of thin ale, and lastly to the youngest Gisborne with fresh squeezed apple juice in a goblet. The family thanked her and went about their respective business of fretting and playing pretend. This small interruption could not shake Lacie's haunting that Seth would bring this family only trouble. Drake continued leaping the Prince's knight about in ridiculous strides whilst nursing his light alcohol from the opposite hand, giving the others quite a thirst. Lacie was too preoccupied to consider ingesting anything, but Margaret swiftly jumped from the train of toys and landed on another car that centered around juice. She used her petite hands to hold the cup to her lips and chug easily half of the fluid before preparing the pair of princesses for the knight's return, upon which he would select his wife.

"Okay, ladies," Drake stumbled the knight over, "I have seen the most evil men and conquered their kingdom in the name of England! Now who shall be my wife… and stuff…" his halfhearted dialogue did not even pique his sister, so Drake made a second attempt at pleasing her. She did not respond at this either. The teenager rolled his eyes and gave in, inquiring who she wanted to win if she were to be so picky. Margaret gave nothing; she sat perfectly still and glazed over with a visual fix on Drake's knight who was wrapped up in fingers. With time her back slumped into a curl and led her shoulders to droop like a flower petal after abuse from heavy rainfall. "Margaret?" She did not reply.

A veil of beaded sweat fabricated on her hairline and the bridge of the child's nose; the second indicator that froze his heart in panic. He forcefully repeated her name and leaned over to touch her shoulder. Lacie was drawn in after noting her son's wavering cool and, to her horror, it was deserved. In only the course of a minute the eight year old had turned flush and silent, her eyes not deviating from the same spot. Lady Gisborne rushed to her hands and knees and grabbed Margaret by the forearms, turned her to face her mother, and questioned what was wrong. Finally the child blinked.

"Mummy, I don't feel… I feel…" she wandered into hushed silence as a wave of heat hit her. Lacie watched her daughter's eyes flutter and touched clammy skin; how on earth was she so ill so fast?

"Get your father. Now!" Lacie gargled up without even glancing to her son, but he took the advice and burst through the threshold to locate the Sherriff. The mother tipped Margaret back into her lap and brushed a palm over the flame tinted raven hair that tumbled over her knees. "Honey, look at me. It's alright, sweetheart. Stay here with me, okay? Stay here." The child squeezed shut her eyes and only reacted when Lacie shook her head in anxiety to wake her. By the time her life expectancy had passed, Lady Gisborne craned her neck to see Guy enter the scene. He tore off his leather jacket and rested it over his daughter's tiny, chilled body. He ran a calloused hand over her cheek and smiled; his expression donated no hint that Margaret was in any trouble whatsoever. His beam was all pleasantries and white teeth.

"Grit Bit," he cooed her with her nickname, "just relax." As Gisborne faced the door, however, his look became somber. The man who was approaching fifty instantly turned eighty as the castle physician and his son filtered in. The doctor already had a hand in the medical bag and was pulling jars and incense as Drake creaked the door shut; after all, this was not a time for any other matters to arrive. The medicine man was hasty when it came to yanking the top from a container and tossing handfuls of leeches on strategic parts of Margaret's body. He was equally sure of the diagnosis to accompany his treatment.

"My Lord, this is a poisoning if I have ever seen one." The physician hardly informed the Sherriff. Gisborne watched his child for a moment before fixing a stone stare to his employee. This man was the best in town, nothing like that useless bag Vesey had; Guy was quick to sack him at his appointment. If the doctor was sure, so was he.

"That makes no sense," Lacie added in, "she is old enough not to eat roots or leaves. She has been with Drake all day."

"Hey, I didn't do anything!" the Gisborne heir threw his hands to the air and briefly choked on the thought of absorbing blame. Margaret distracted the team, though, with desperate hacking and gagging in reaction to her body's denial of the venom. A liquid like cough triggered searing and instant tears into Lacie, meanwhile Guy fumed in a pressure cooker of vengeance and aggression. There was not a single moment that the Sherriff of Nottingham mistakenly presumed that his second son held any responsibility. He thrust a palm into the wall and drew his dagger with the free hand. Lacie's eyes bugged as she saw his reflex; even after all these years his anger management was far from in control and she became easily nervous in a situation where Gisborne wielded a blade.

"I know who did." Guy growled as he tossed the hilt a bit until finding a comfortable grip with which to take a man's life. If he could kill his father-in-law, he could kill his son. The man of black shoved past his family and gave no acknowledgements to his wife's pleads for his return; instead, he trusted Margaret's life to his physician as he went to claim another.


	32. You're Not Done

Review box. Right at the bottom. Go for it.

The slam on the welded iron bars startled Seth wide awake. He jolted in his position propped up in the dank corner, his muscles preparing for fight or flight before he recalled his surroundings. It was late morning and he was a guest of the dungeon. His game was starting at the end of the evening; this put a smug smile on his face as Seth peered up to find his biological father perched over with a white knuckle grip around the metal.

"Daddy!" he exclaimed with a cellophane joy that Sir Guy of Gisborne swept off and disregarded.

"I will kill you," he growled with a baritone key, "for what you did. Do you understand me? I will. Kill. You."

"Oh, anger, I like it," Seth rose and met him at the threshold, his height only a few inches lower than the towering Gisborne, "Do you really think you could murder your own son?"

"I should have done it when you were born in the first place." He spat back.

"And what would Lacie think of that?" the young man cocked an eyebrow; he knew the nerve he had to strike. If done quickly and cleanly like a viper, Gisborne would crumble. Or so was the plan. Instead the Sherriff shoved his arms in up to the elbows and with a stone right hand closed on Seth's neck; he gripped his shoulder as well, the clenching containing zero restraint.

"You do not even think of her, much less speak her name. And I swear to God if you ever touch her -"

"I would love to touch her." He pushed. Gisborne shoved against Seth's trachea and forced him a few steps from the door. The man forced open the gate and swiftly drew his polished dagger, the metal glowing in the shadows, and the absence of blood on the blade misleading. He had done this so many times. And he would indulge in this experience. Seth felt his body respond to the situation with, to his lament, flight as opposed to fight. He curled back against the wall as a wicked grin painted over Guy. Seth felt a crack appear in his armor as each second passed and he realized this was not a threat; it was reality. His father actually wanted to kill him for trying to squander his money; this was, after all, all that Seth had done. He was not responsible for Margaret's malaise. Guy was not aware of this fact nor would he have been willing to pay attention. He was going to receive vengeance. Gisborne craftily swung the blade down from the shoulder to the wrist, causing a slit in Seth's clothing that exposed a light blood draw. Oh yes, it would be torture.

"You will haunt me no more." Gisborne reassured both himself and his illegitimate son. Seth recognized the sensation of a stone wall upon his back just before his brain blocked out everything except a stab to the left shoulder. A hot pain radiated out from the collar bone and forced its way down nerves through the arm, shoving aside all thought and function. The searing intensified as the blade twisted inside of the nest made from his flesh.

Oh the high off of this was better than Guy could have ever remembered. He forced away the existence of his wife and family and the virtuosity they resembled and opened the floodgates to an addiction of violence and hate; this excitement was better than any food or sex could possibly imagine to be. The chemicals coursing through Guy's blood were exponentially more than the endorphins his wife's bed had given on any occasion. This control was something he didn't even know that he still craved, but it resolved a dehydration that had rested dormant. It felt good.

Gisborne withdrew the dagger from Seth's muscle and had a shudder of thrill as the prison door swung open and a guard in chainmail descended the steps to the center of the floor. The security officer said his formal greetings but still had a glare of dissatisfaction cast upon him by the Sherriff; Gisborne was instantly unsettled by the fact that his sadistic sport had to be delayed.

"My Lord, the physician and Lady Gisborne require you upstairs. Miss Margaret has been healed, Sire."

"How many of your kids do you plan on carving up?" Seth breathily questioned. This time, he was not working a metaphorical wound into his father to let fester. He was genuinely terrified by the man and the way he treated children. Gisborne, though, received this as more smack talk. There was no resistance in force as Guy punch square across Seth's face before putting double locks on the cell door and returning to his daughter. Seth rounded over on the floor and held a hand to his bloody shoulder, the crater from the seven inch blade still gaped and gushing. He squeezed tight and shut his eyes. Another bang on the wrought iron created a whimper from the illegitimate boy as he drug out the time required to look up at his torturer. Holding the cell with a burning iron stood Gisborne; but not the same one. Drake pried the locks from the door and kicked it open.

"You are not done." Was all he said before lifting the iron to make his father proud.


	33. Depressive Euphoria

I apologize if this chapter comes out a bit funny. I am having, for whatever reason, trouble expressing exactly what I am seeing into a flowing tale… what are the odds I can get the gang back together and just film it for ya do you think?

The smell was making Drake gag but he could not let himself stop now while he was ahead. Seth had put up a mild struggle, but it wasn't anything fury and vengeance for your family couldn't ward off. At this point, the dark pink scorches across Seth's body were beginning to tighten and cool as tears stained his face on the floor. Drake of Gisborne tossed the hot iron aside to the opposite wall. It had a globe of orange on the heated tip that left a foreboding message that the eldest son could not divert his attention from; only his ears informed him that Drake had pulled a blade. Seth knew he did not have any more ability to clash today. This was the end.

"You have ruined the Gisborne name." Drake spat at him with blindness. He was unaware that not only had the title of Gisborne been fabricated, but it was a word of terror and greed only a decade or two ago. The glory he fought for was false.

"Drake…" Seth bargained to deafness. All he wanted was to withdraw demands and slink away to Clun to lick the wounds of his phony pride and vanity. The younger Gisborne, however, had different plans. Drake shifted his fingers on the hilt before pulling the knife back for a final strike. He could feel his bicep tensing with both strength and hesitation; he wondered if Guy had needed to overcome this obstacle before. Poor little Margaret flashed across his brain in the moment it took to convince himself to follow through. He lunged forward but gasped when his forearm was grabbed and turned away. He lost balance and tumbled to the right before replacing his footing, a hot adrenaline now surging. Drake saw his knife resting on the filthy ground between himself, Seth, and another man. This man was about an inch shorter than himself but he held a presence that could cast silence upon an entire banquet hall. He dressed in a simple brown outfit; he had little money but incredible muscle and stealth. Drake was rather sure he was not a current inmate playing vigilante.

"Let it go." The mysterious guest told him, putting out a hand that wore several scars.

"You will both be punished by the law!" Drake yelled in frustration, subconsciously wanting to attract attention for back up from the guards above.

"Drake, calm down. This is not what it seems." He nearly warned; it seemed to the young Gisborne that there was an Irish flair to the stranger's voice. He leaned over to assist Seth in sitting upright when Drake saw the opportunity to regain his weapon. Even though the action was rapid, the man still caught wind of the motion and kicked Drake over away from the tool. The fringed cloak on the stranger swayed with action, quite unlike his assertion to deny Drake, and shaded over half of his visage in the candle light.

"Who are you? Why are you here?" the youngest Gisborne male inquired with an escalating anger.

"Don't worry about that."

"Why are you my enemy?" Drake pressed through gritted teeth that held as tight as his fists.

"Drake, I am nobody's enemy; I am here to be sure nobody makes a mistake that they have to live with."

"You will be arrest-" the young Gisborne was cut off midsentence by a shriek of pain that burst from his lungs, deflating the organs and surging a sharpness that kidnapped all motion from below his hips. After hesitation he obtained the courage to discover the knife that had been crammed through his calf and halfway to the bone. The stranger lunged to peel Seth off of the handle of the weapon and punch him unconscious; the blade became his next priority with a mild panic, but Drake already knew what to do. Drake yanked it from his muscle and shut out the fact that part of his tissue had escaped as well. He charged to his knocked out illegitimate sibling and forced the knife through his chest, instantly ceasing his breathing. Seth died in the blink of an eye as the stranger cried out for it all to stop. Drake drew away his hands at a turtle's pace; they were dripping in the warm crimson of another soul's life. He had never had death on his name before today and he was not so sure he liked it. In fact, he was terrified that he was not particularly disliking it, either. Seth had blackmailed his father and proceeded to attack the Gisborne heir, was what he did so bad? What would his mother think? He was more than capable of stealing a life, and now he was feeling the authority that brought, but how much longer was it before this would happen again? The power felt beyond euphoric. A part of Drake was hoping he could have the rush again soon. The stranger was huddled over Seth's corpse searching for any way to revive or sustain his existence but it was all hopeless. The troubled boy had perished.

Footsteps stormed down the staircase as half a dozen mace wielding guards fell into attack form, weapons poised at the end of yellow sleeves of allegiance. Sir Guy filtered between them with a thick sword slipping back into the sheath. He took in the scene in a moment but it was rather difficult to process; his son stood coated in blood as a new figure shut the eyes of a cadaver. Gisborne anticipated having to kill Seth at some point, but this was slightly overwhelming to take in with a big whiff.

"Father…" Drake muttered as a wall of exhaustion clouded over his mind.

"What is this? What happened to you?" Guy blurted as he attempted a few steps closer to the incident, waving away the armored support.

"It's not Drake's blood." Grumbled the third man as he turned to face the Sherriff of Nottingham. The tone was sour with a sprinkle of remorse that irritated Gisborne for some reason. Hold on now, he thought silently, that bothersome voice was all too familiar. Guy proceeded to the man with wide motions and tore off the burlap cloak, revealing a face with rapidly silvering hair and deep crow's feet. The marionette lines were carved in after so many sad occasions. Even after a decade, though, Guy instantly knew this man.

"Hood."


	34. Seth Is Dead

"You had better run as fast as your damn legs can carry you before my archers –"

"Both of your children could have lost their lives today," Robin cut in, standing up to lick his lips and challenge Guy's menacing stature, "You're lucky I was here."

"You are exiled from Nottingham."

"As of when?"

"Now." Gisborne growled with a distaste that spread to everyone's mouth. Hood rolled his eyes at the same game that had grown to a stalemate years ago.

"Gisborne, your son is alive. And Margaret will not be hurt any longer."

"What the hell do you know about my daughter?" Guy grabbed at his sword again as Robin put up a palm to halt him, already fatigued from the exercise that was bound to repeat itself.

"She is well? The physician healed her?" he continued after no answer, "There was a small faction of farmers who plotted a rebellion against you. They are not so happy with your history and decided to take it upon themselves to find a new Sherriff."

"I will –"

"I handled it." He asserted. Robin watched Guy crinkle his eyebrows at his fated foe, noting the gray hairs that had nestled into his sideburns and the ever prominent crow's feet that perched around the same crystal blue eyes that he knew to be filled with hate. From Robin's observances, those eyes were now more concerned with stress than bloodshed; he was not, however, one to change his mind easily.

"Why?" Gisborne asked like a rock. Mistrust was not disguised in the baritone voice.

"We used to be friends, didn't we?" Hood smirked with a cheekiness that provoked a sneer. Oh, how habits flooded back to the boys.

"Why do you care enough to come back from hiding? It was assumed you had died in the Holy Land…"

"You wish so, eh?" he joked.

"More than you know." Was the bitterly honest answer.

"Gisborne…. Guy. I made a promise to Lacie when your son was born that I would protect your family from anything. These children are under the watch of Robin Hood, and you should be thankful."

"I knew you were always trying to get in with my wife –"

"Gisborne, cut it out! None of us can play these mind games. Your son just killed a man and he is hurt."

"I'm fine." Drake finally entered the conversation as he squeezed a bit on the injured calf; blood flow was still heavy but managed. One of the guards, it seemed, had already begun tending to it. Guy had not paid any attention.

"You killed him?" Gisborne choked out after mulling over what Hood had said. Drake nodded and shattered the tattered remnants of his father's tortured heart; had he raised the same monster he himself had been? Surely Lacie taught him better. Perhaps this curse was genetic.

"I thought he had tried to kill Margaret, and it just got so out of hand… I don't really even know what I did." Drake dazedly explained, but Robin was the only one listening to the story. Gisborne was spiraling into depression over the course of this afternoon.

"You murdered somebody, Drake." Guy spat.

"Father –"

"That is what you did, you murdered him. You have stabbed a man to death!" Gisborne felt shame and wrath piling into a tower that threatened to crush anyone around, but he did not rein it in.

"I didn't… I don't know what happened!"

"Seth is dead," Guy jabbed a finger into his son, "by your hand. He should have been hung by law, not killed by a greedy teenager." Robin shot a look into Guy to ask if it was, in fact, the same Seth that he had rescued from hypothermia in the woods as an infant back when he had a band of thieves. Gisborne's instant reaction of averting his gaze screamed yes; Hood pinched the bridge of his nose at the tangled web.

"Was he a thief?" Robin eventually pulled out into the silence, motioning to Seth.

"… Blackmail." Guy replied with a great amount of reluctance. Robin slowly nodded and looked at the body, remembering the tiny infant that needed his warmth to survive, that he and Marian worked so hard to reunite with his mother. The brain leapt to the train of Marian next, but this is where Hood jumped off. He could not handle that heartache now. Robin swallowed down the urge to wound Gisborne with a blow about his killing of Marian. Guy could not stop glaring at his child, the murderer. The creature of violence.

"Is it so different from anything you have done?" Robin aired out in a mutter as he walked to the father's side. His attempt to lessen Drake's punishment led Guy to wrinkle his nose up and scoff; how dare anyone try to compare him and Drake?

Drake had a perfect childhood. A strong but compassionate father, a loving and devoted mother, and more money and power than the child knew what to do with. Recently, he even had a younger sister to help raise. How could a boy make such a filthy decision to throw away everything Guy gave him? He was ungrateful and poisonous. Vicious. Gisborne had reasons – emotional abuse, depression, stress, the loss of his father and replacement by the criminal Vesey. Guy had no choice, but he selected to change with his marriage and children. There was no torment or possession that would be a quality excuse for his son; Drake was nothing more than a monster that he wanted nothing to do with.

"Clean yourself up." He spat at Drake before exiting the dungeon, waving away Robin Hood without the energy to force him from the premises. There was only one person that could keep him from clawing out his own heart from its cavity and slamming it to the floor. She may be able to make more sense of it for him, as well. Most of all, he needed to see Lacie because she is the only person who could keep him from hanging his own son.


	35. Burdens

I understand the wait for updates has been long and I sincerely apologize. My father recently passed away and I have not been quite in the mood to conjure up an array of emotion or focus on a character's needs. Here we go, though, and the momentum will only pick up. Thank you all for your patience and please drop in some reviews to let me know what you think of the unfolding plots.

"No."

"I will strangle him with Seth's intestines."

"No."

"I will put a hot staff down his throat and-"

"No."

I will shove his beaten body off the roof of this cas-"

"No, Guy. You will not." Lacie nearly chuckled. After so many years she was used to Gisborne's methods of venting and finding cruel justice in his own brain juices where his hands dare not go; it was more of a dark humor for the couple than threats.

The explosion of fury and disappointment had splattered across the walls of his chambers and left debris in the wake; in the ten minutes of his violent rant Gisborne had struck down pieces of art and a few chairs around the floor. At one point even the curtains on the farthest window had been torn from the rod and flung about to screams and spits. His wife sat in silence at the foot of the bed watching, waiting, listening. Guy had tired himself and abandoned the high maintenance of severe emotion. Now he lay sprawled on the bed fatigued, confused, and split with his head in the lap of his compassionate companion.

"I can't find any way to punish Drake that will not divide us forever, much less scar him. Lace, I cannot lose my only son. But he cannot continue live as though he did not kill a man in cold blood."

"We don't need to know what to do, my dear, it will come. For now we need to find peace."

"My child is a monster." He sneered with a bitter flavor crawling from his throat. Lacie stroked his curling hair.

"Our child has made a mistake; granted it is quite a big one. You have learned to change as so can he-"

"He shouldn't have to, dammit!"

"Guy, I am no happier about this than you, but if we leave rationale aside it will only ruin this family." She sternly stopped him. The Sherriff squeezed his eyelids shut but could not get comfortable, even with Lacie's presence. Gisborne wanted to stab the man who stabbed Seth but he could not stomach, much less fathom, doing such a thing to Drake. Why did they have to be the same person?

"What is the law for people who murder?" he posed but did not get a response, "Hmm Lacie?"

"Hanging." She muttered, each sip of air weighing her guts further down into her abdomen. She had to be the rock, the cornerstone, the sense of it all, but once she was alone she would wrench and snap in an instant.

"Why should Drake get special treatment?"

"Well, he is your son. The Sherriff of Nottingham's son."

"And what does that say about our authority if he is let off?" Guy shifted pale blue eyes to watch his red headed wife avert a stare.

"Our child's life should not be about power." She grumbled.

"Lacie." He reprimanded her attitude with harshness, no nerves left to have patience.

"Guy, I don't want to talk about this anymore."

"What, are we just going to sweep it under the rug? Pretend this family is worth something? Pretend that I cannot ruin everything I touch?" Gisborne stood with vigor and stormed across to the fireplace before finding his weariness again.

"Well I am not going to let you kill someone else in this family!" Lacie burst out before feeling it come up. She slapped a pair of hands to her mouth and looked bewildered, body angled back away from her husband who had turned to see through her. His teeth clenched together so hard they should have shattered. Both of them thought of her father, the late Deacon, who Guy had assassinated years earlier. She told him she was over it. They moved on. She forgave him. Well, he realized, apparently not. It would seem his wife had harbored anger after all this time and waited for the perfect opportunity to spring it up; his weak spot had to be exposed. Lacie was in disbelief that the words flew into the universe at all. She had not deposited thought towards her late and hard-to-love father in quite some time. The strain was clearly too much, she was talking about losing her son for crying out loud! Lady Gisborne needed fresh air.

"I dare you to speak to me like that again." Guy rowed, slamming a finger in her face.

"Guy, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it."

"Don't you dare lie to me, Lacie, I will not punish you, too."

"Relax! We are just at the end of our ropes and speaking nonsense." She pushed his hand down and simultaneously ignited a new pocket of anger, this one directed not at the world, but at her. Gisborne grabbed her by the thin wrist and clasped it hard.

"I am the Sherriff of Nottingham and I am your husband and by God you will respect me." He snarled at her with clear menace. With the stress of his duties, he found it quite easy to take things out on those he loved, and this episode was something Lacie had recently become too familiar with. The skirmishes on the border of the county needed to stop so that, in turn, so would her spouse. She swallowed hard and attempted a civil and composed close to the spat.

"Guy, I respect and love you. But you need to settle down and think for once before you go and-" She was stopped by the echoing strike across her left cheek. A heat flowed down the river of nerves in her body and ate at her stomach; she was only mildly harmed on the face but deeply disturbed by what Gisborne had just done. A crack had formed in the marriage by the sound of the blow.

"You will bite your tongue now, do you understand me?" Guy had shoved his nose nearly to hers as his wrinkled eyes glared into terrified mirrors of green, a boiling rush that obviously did not directly result from her present. Lacie knew it was all the diseased aftermath of sickening woe and frayed sentiments. That did not make it any easier to swallow, though. Guy shook his head and left the room for it no longer contained any oxygen. He was restless, agitated, and harmed beyond words. Was there anything he couldn't taint?

This life, this wedding, these children, they were intended as salvation. Was it possible they could just be markers of his spreading failure and misery? Sir Guy of Gisborne had tucked away the truth that he so despised but it was unearthed by the storm: he was a tormented screw up with no purpose in life other than to be relentlessly clawed apart by his own mind. At the end of the hallway he spun to face the chambers where the dramatic scene had just unfolded. He felt so awful about hurting Lacie, his innocent girl, the blessing that was somehow blind enough not to desert him. Loathing chased the remorse and dragged him back into the room. She had not moved. The mother of two kept her head low and sealed up her lips, which made him uncomfortable. Guy had demanded she behave this way and so, without question, she molded to please him. Or was it in fear of scolding? Either way he was wrong. The Sherriff sat next to her, one knee bent up as the other leg reached to the floor, and held her close to his chest. Gisborne gently cupped his palm over the victim cheek and kissed the crown of her head while apologizing without any verbal indications. Neither of them required words, they required rest and serenity. Time, though, is cruel to those who need it. Both Lacie and Guy knew that with each other their burdens could be resolved.


	36. Never Let Go

*** I cannot believe there has been such a long amount of time between chapters. I have recently had a few deaths in the family and have been keeping myself rather busy! But rejoice, Guy has returned!***

Drake smothered down another shot of pain in his back as he straightened up and tossed more cargo into a wagon. With this throw his eyes floated up to an exterior path along the castle to see his unamused father towering with a malevolent cloud obviously gobbling up his soul. The hard glare on his face was not a new sight, but lately he could not seem to wear anything else. Gisborne had not spoken to his son in days. No yelling, no punishment, no apologies, no questions. But he always lingered; his hovering unsettled his son but this was the closest to peace they could ever have again, he feared. Drake had tripled his chores and labor in an attempt to somehow make up for his mistake or at least migrate to Guy's good side. He was still wholly unaware that he had killed his half-brother. Sherriff Gisborne stood numbly at his perch until his depressed mind was distracted by a tapping on his thigh.

"Daddy, are you mad at Drake?" Maragret questioned with curiosity; she was the only person in Nottingham castle who was not treading carefully or approaching Guy with fragility and fear. He knelt down and pursed his lips.

"I'm not very happy about something he did," Guy slightly smiled, "But it does not mean I don't love you both with all of my heart."

"Mommy said you're mad. Are you mad at Mommy, too?"

"No, honey, no. I could never be angry with Mommy."

"Oh… okay. Well can you show me more bow hunting stuff?"

"A little later, alright Margaret?" Gisborne kissed his daughter's cheek as she showed her displeasure at the wait. He hoisted her up and held the girl on his hip, swiping aside raven hairs that had wrestled themselves out of the bars of her hair clip, and felt weighed down with overwhelming sadness. Guy's blue gaze went back to Drake, who also felt the downing cloud. Both of the men were thinking of how the boys would play in the fields of Locksley. All of the love and attention and skill building was now overpowered with guilt, hate, and scarring. A hot wave came over the father and he knew this situation was getting the best of him; he barely slept and certainly didn't eat. Guy took in a last glance at Drake before bringing his daughter in to sit down. He was so tired.

Eventually Margaret scampered off as Gisborne reclined in a study, shades drawn, eyes closed. He made every attempt possible to shut out the world, maybe hoping to recreate his own that could filter through into reality. His worn hands held his forehead and, for a brief moment, he begged the universe to let his life be like he had dreamed it would be. He realized that this was already true, for all that awaited him at night were nightmares. The Sherriff paid no mind to the door making its way open. Gentle hands rested on his knees before he gave the energy to look. Lacie was crouched on the floor before him and released a heavy breath.

"Guy, I wish you would eat something," She sweetly pleaded, only being answered by a furrowing brow and mild shaking of the head to mark no. His wife transferred to sitting on his lap and ran her palm along his strong jaw line, "I am so worried about you, sweetheart. You're not yourself. I hope you aren't getting ill… do you want me to get some rose pills for you? A doctor? "

"I don't want anything."

"Well you are going to get a kiss whether you want it or not." Lacie smiled before following through. Her mouth met his as she tasted his warm lips before they broke into a small grin. His hands wrapped around her before she placed her head on his broad shoulder.

"You're the best thing that has ever happened to me." Guy whispered in the tinted room, their personal globe sealing off this library and making it their secret hideout, his warm arms holding his wife close.

"Then tell me how to make you better now."

"Please, please do not ever let me go. No matter my mistakes and those of the children I have raised, please do not let go."

"I will make you a promise, Guy. I will never, never let you go. But you have to let go of some other things to leave room for me." She spoke directly into his ear. Gisborne swelled his chest with breath and squeezed her tightly; being his spouse Lacie was given anything she asked for. Especially with her being right, he could not fathom saying no.

"Sounds like a deal," his low voice soothed her, " we may have to kiss on it." The mother of his children lovingly obliged, even as he refused to let her lips leave his. Guy's hand wandered down each vertebrae her spine and, for the first time in several weeks, the couple enjoyed each other without any worry for the rest of the world outside of their bed.


	37. Take Everything

Comments? Throw 'em on over here! Review box is at the bottom

"Dad, I don't want special treatment." Drake muttered with begrudging honesty; every node in his body begged him to lie and plead for forgiveness but he could not be untruthful, his mother had made sure of that when he was young.

"We cannot prove what happened there, nobody can," Guy lowly answered as he shifted forward, "there is no reason for you to die." The pair were seated on a small metalwork bench on the fringe of shade from a small tree in Nottingham castle's courtyard, but they were far from relaxing. Tension was clear but their voices were quiet so as not to attract attention to the conspiracy.

"We cannot pretend it never happened."

"I don't intend to. I will never forget what you did, Drake, and I may never forgive you. But I will not lose you." Was Sherriff Gisborne's blunt sting. The young adult squinted to the sky momentarily, feeling a sear from the floating sun, and ran a hand through his thick raven hair. The injury from his father's words, however, would not dissipate. A fortnight had passed and Drake still felt breathless from the sheer slope he was climbing to redeem himself; yet it all seemed in vain. His only comfort was the solace from knowing Guy did not want him dead, but is that not supposed to be expected from a parent? Their suffocating conversation was interrupted by a swelling of noise from the draw gate as silver skinned defenders scampered over to resolve the commotion. Gisborne rose with a cloud of authority, palm on the hilt of his sword, and waded through guards until reaching the front.

"What is going on here?" his temper bubbled.

"You killed my son!" spat a common looking woman, her chestnut hair swishing before her face as a guard pushed her back from the entrance. Guy rolled his eyes; this was a common episode as men hung for their crimes, diluting any remorse one could feel after tending to Nottingham for nearly thirty years.

"Get her out." He commanded with irritation. A clump of workers obliged, glinting in the afternoon sun, and forced her away from the property.

"How can you kill your own son, you monster?" she shrieked. Gisborne froze in place, his back to her, and locked eyes with Drake. His son from wedlock was instantly interested, and Guy was hot in panic. His flesh could have burned another person. The knot that had twisted up his lungs thieved away air as he worried for Drake's future, or possible lack thereof. He turned to the woman and stared in total stillness.

"Annie." He sighed. With only his hand the Sherriff halted the officers and let her approach him. Gisborne feared he would regret this choice and he was right; she spat directly into his face just before smacking a slightly wrinkled palm across his jaw. This assault put Annie right back into the arms of soldiers, but she did not care, she would die for Seth any day.

"You killed him, Guy, I know it! He never came home and it's all your fault!"

"I did not kill Seth-"

"Liar!"

"I did not kill him, Annie, trust me."

"Trust you? Trust you, Guy? Like how I trusted you to be a father to our son, or how I trusted you to find him a home? Nobody worth living would trust you!"

"Annie, listen to me!" Gisborne began to snap, crushed under the weight of his own choices and inflaming shame. His clear eyes watched behind her as clusters of subjects were floating over and sticking to the gossip unfolding; he was losing everything in an instant. He did not have the courage to see his son Drake's reaction behind him.

"Is he dead, Guy?" Annie questioned with a hardness that had surpassed fury. Dozens of eyes shone down on him like a spotlight.

"He killed himself in the prison cell." Gisborne fibbed with flawless precision; however, a mother always knows. He had fooled everyone except the person that mattered.

"I know you killed him. I know you did, it's all you can do, it's what your life is about. You kill everyone who is not of benefit to you and that's why you wanted him dead since before he was born. You are a killer!"

"I never killed you, now did I? No matter how many reasons you give me." His tongue jabbed at her with a threat, but she let it glide off. What was life without her child?

"I think abandoning me and your child counts as death, doesn't it?" she raised her voice, prompting ever more attention. Annie watched as his eyes swelled and darted in horror at all of the people present to know about his secret, "You want to add me to your list, do it. Kill me like you did Seth. It won't stop them from knowing, I have been to every single village and they all know. Every farmer, every cloth dyer, every child!"

"Dungeon, now!" he screamed at the armored men, nostrils flaring, blood clawing at the walls of his veins. This could not be true, he could not be falling, it could not be the end. Guy tore up the steps into his fortress with the quietest hate Drake had ever witnessed; explosions and obscenities and violence always accompanied his father's temper, but not today. Today he had tipped too far over the edge of reason.

That night, the immobility of the city of Nottingham confirmed Guy's fear. Word was spreading like a rabid and fouling disease, keeping citizens indoors to gossip, and warning them not to leave their homes for the consequence of Gisborne's infamous wrath. Not even the clops of solid hooves hovered in the air outside of the castle. Quiet infused the towering stone building as well and had pushed the father into a brewing depression in solitude. His rage marked the door and disallowed any visitors. Not even the Gisborne family knew how to react; Drake was too confused and feared evolving his anger by misuse of words, Margaret was too young to wrap her head around any problem, and Lacie was caught in a state of terror. She loved her husband with no doubt stepping out from the shadows, but she did know the back of his hand a little too well from trying to intervene. After ensuring the children were in bed, Lacie stood before his door in silence, yet another blank and quiet piece on the board of Nottingham. His wife slipped into the room and became eaten up by the darkness. Only his eyes gave any motion to her and almost ten minutes passed before one of them was brave enough to make any acknowledgments.

"You don't deserve this." Sir Guy of Gisborne, the soldier who had tumbled into tragedy, admitted.

"I am your wife, I take everything you do."

"No, Lace… I meant me. You don't deserve… you don't deserve to be put in this hell with me. Annie was right when she said no real person could love me."

"Oh, Guy, stop it. Your kids love you to the end of the earth; Drake nearly killed himself trying to make you happy and Margaret always wants to go horseback riding with her Daddy. And I like to think I love you plenty." Lacie heard the impatience with her own tone come out as she took a pose, arms akimbo, soul heavy with the insecurity of inferiority. This pit in her stomach was amplified by her husband's abrupt laughter.

"Lacie you are a child. You are beautiful, you are wonderful, and I love you, but you're a child. You are so innocent and so, so naïve… I adore you. But you just don't understand." His sneer was cloaked in the night but they both knew Lacie's imagination had painted it on a banner in her head.

"No, Guy, you don't understand. You don't understand how much we give so you can wallow whilst the rest of us have to carry on. Goodnight." And with that she slammed out, pouring annoyance around the floor on the storm to her chambers. And for the rest of her life, Lacie would regret that this was the last conversation she had with her husband.


	38. Pleading to God

Lacie chewed on the corner of her lip with a stubborn flare. Her emerald eyes rolled once again in regard to her husband as she read the note over again. _Forgive me_, it said, _and know that I will always love you_. She slid it onto the corner of her mantle and focused again on the group of daisies that were attached. Guy always tried to cover ground and make up for lost time in the wake of arguments, and she easily admitted that it was a glorious gesture on his part. And yet, she was regularly puzzled on how he could always assume forgiveness was an instant process. Lacie would never complain about receiving flowers and love letters, though. An inkling of guilt floated through her veins telling her not to be so rude. Why cling to anger? She had also been out of line last night, honesty prevailing. Being an only child she allowed herself to be a bit of a brat for a while more.

Exiting into the hall she could hear the jeers and fury of citizens drifting through the courtyard and in through thin windows. Signaled by the breaking of dawn townsfolk were manic about the slander and accusations confronting Guy. Of course Lacie knew every one of them was true; and, with more veracity, they weren't too thrilled with his original appointment to Sherriff in the first place. Too brutal, they said. Too selfish, they claimed. Too shady, they cried. Now that word of Seth's life, and death, had leaked out hell had flooded the city. She had made a point to instruct Margaret to stay within the thick stone walls near the center of the premises to avoid harm, fearing what had happened to her son at sunrise would happen to her little girl as well.

Lacie wound up a case of spiral steps to the doctor's territory where bottles and jars of eerie and potent mixtures lined the walls. On a cot lie Drake, false strength caked on like make up to his face. The arrow that had been fired into his shoulder by an insurgent had been successfully removed with excruciating pain and pools of blood, but the wound was not clearing. The heir to the Gisborne title burned energy with a smile to his mother. She went to his left side, opposite her husband's seating, and knelt down with a tight hold on her son's hand. Both of them felt the fire in Guy's soul but did not pay him attention.

"How do you feel?" she weakly put in positive energy.

"Like I got shot." Was his sarcastic reply.

"Drake…"

"Hurts like hell, Mum," He cringed his nose up as another hot wave pulsed from the sore, "I shouldn't have gone out there. Should have known better, but I wanted them to know –"

"Shhhhh, my dear, don't talk. It's going to be alright." Lacie kissed his hand and noticed her husband's demeanor; it was grief, empty of pain or anger, empty of anything. Her gaze fired over to the castle's physician who dared not look directly back at her. Eventually an answer was coaxed from him.

"M'lady, I have done many, many things here but I don't see that they are very effective."

"Try harder." She demanded. The doctor gave a nod and turned back to his formulas and concoctions. Gisborne itched all over and ached deeper in his tissue than what he realized existed, knowing he could not stay here, he could not handle this. He rose and placed his bare hand on the back of his son's head with affection.

"Drake, remember what I told you."

"Yes, Dad."

"Always… always remember it." Guy pressed. Drake nodded and gave a tiny shift on the cot. Guy then took a deep stare at the Lady Gisborne, so gentle, yet so tense. So loving. So scared. He could not allow himself to ruin her life any more. As Lacie returned his observation he shut his eyes and walked out; he could not bear to look at her another moment. Pain had built too much into his life, tearing at his heart, keeping his sanity at arm's length, denying him sleep, showing him the poison he slipped into other people's lives. Heartache taunted him and he had had enough. Maybe he should have left her to return to Leeds where she could have lived and rejoiced without his weight; Guy knew for sure, however, that he could not continue hurting his wife any longer.

Lacie remained by her son's bedside as the wound was drained yet again, wincing each time he yelped. She would have done anything to carry this cross for him. As a last resort the physician had smeared an herbal cream into the gash as the aging mother desperately prayed. Fingers fiddling with a small cross, she withheld tears. Lacie did not doubt her son's strength for a moment; it was the indecision and elusive nature of God's plans that worried her. She could not afford to lose anything else she loved in this life.

As purple began to wade into the sky for the evening both Drake and his mother lulled into some peace. The searing of his wound was steadily declining, giving him time to think over whether he would be rubbish at sword fighting from this point on. What would his father think? Lacie, too, pondered over Guy. She realized how selfish and, dare she admit it, childish she was being over the spat with the Sherriff. It was nothing to be so hung up about, really. She felt a nudge inside demanding she apologize to him. It was at this moment the youngest Gisborne was allowed in to see her big brother considering his health was, for the first time, stabilizing. Little Margaret didn't pay much mind to the bandage on Drake but rather focused her banter on the fact that he had technically been in a bed all day.

"Oh really, and what did you do today?"

"Well I went and pet the horses with Daddy."

"Just now?" Lacie injected herself into the conversation. Her daughter nodded innocently.

"Yup, we saw the horsies and then Daddy told me to come be with you."

"Well you're my sister, I hope you want to come see me."

"Not you," she sneered a bit, "Mummy."

"He told you to come see me?" she inquired to yet another nod with an odd discomfort kicking in her stomach like an unborn child, "what else did Daddy say?"

"Just that he loves me and that he doesn't want me to be mad at him."

"Why would you be mad at him?" Drake asked with the slur of medication on his breath. Margaret shrugged and screwed up her brows as she noted Lacie's wide eyes. _"You don't deserve to be put in this hell with me," _he had told her in the deep of the night yesterday. _"Forgive me,"_ he had written, _"and know that I will always love you," _he had scribed to her. He had exposed his soul to the kids, professing his love for them, and asking forgiveness all around? This was not Sir Guy of Gisborne. This was a different man controlling his body and Lacie was struck with the fear of God that this new monster was about to do something terrible. She bolted from the room and sprinted as fast as her thin legs could manage down staircase after staircase to… to where? Her face ran hot with pure and concentrated anxiety as she squeezed shut her eyes and desperately attempted to bend her mind into understanding her husband's. He would not hide himself to do it, but he would not give the public the satisfaction of seeing it. Where did he want to be, rather, where did he think he deserved to be? With the jolt of ideas connecting in her mind Lacie dashed to the Sherriff's office and pleaded aloud to God that she was not too late.


	39. Blind With What I Can't Forget

A traditional English rain swelled on the horizon. There were no thunderous booms to resonate through flesh, no frantic hailing down of rain, no fury harbored in the great stone colored clouds. The intensity and looming of their presence, though, was inescapable.

Lacie's chest ached with a burning thirst for oxygen as she sprinted through masses of muscular guards and down case after case of steep steps. Her milky skin had flooded red as her thin shoes barely gripped the floor; she was pounding to the Sherriff's office with a purpose she had never imagined could ignite to this level. Each moment of resentment, jealousy, short-temperament, and disgust she had with her husband burned up in a chemical pile chugging through her veins. Lacie regretted wasting any time disliking him even as she smothered down the worst premonition in her gut; she rejected each of these ideas as her mind constructed wafer thin excuses and stalled any concept of a change in the status quo of her world. Reaching the tall wooden door she crossed her chest and clenched the small golden crucifix around her neck with her left hand.

Her fist beat into the door with a wild cry as she felt the lock deny access. It was intentionally jammed into the frame, locked up tight, sealing anyone but Guy outside. Lacie shrieked out with all of the muster her petite body could produce and banged repeatedly into the blockade. She yelled his name over and over, begging and pleading, wishing it was no more than him huffing in selfishness away from her. Her heart, though, knew much better.

"Guy! Jesus Christ, let me in, Guy!" Hot tears marred her face and Lacie looked every minute of her age. She alternated between desperate tugs at the handle and tragic slams into the lumber as she felt the cubby for the lock wearing down. The whole weight of her small body nudged the socket thin and, after nearly years of effort and cries, the door gave way and tumbled inside with the Lady Gisborne. A darkness filled the chamber, but not from lack of sunlight; in fact the drapes were pulled back and light was gracefully displaying everything. A presence weighed down the air like concrete that made Lacie want to vomit.

There was not a single item out of place in the room. Each detail seemed in order as not even dust could be detected over shelves, but the unmistakable whisper that something was wrong would not dissipate. Lacie tore through the room without a pause to wrap around behind the Sherriff's desk, wishing she didn't know that is where he would be. After so many screams and hollers at the door it would be easy to blame a hoarse throat for her lack of sound but, in reality, the sickening shock of her mind becoming disturbed had stolen even the capability of her legs supporting herself. Lacie collapsed to her hands and knees and scraped herself along the floor, through the blood, to Sir Guy of Gisborne.

Resting perfectly on his back, Guy did not move his head to see her. His eyes drifted to her as he took another deep swallow, piercing a shot of pain in his stomach where the dagger protruded from. The blade was driven deep and the hilt stood proud over him. Guy's breaths were choppy and shallow, sweat beading on his forehead, sorrow pooling in his eyes. Gisborne was seconds away from dying. His fingers crept over covered in a sheet of his own blood to gently wrap around his wife's hand. She quickly grabbed it and put it to her heart, gaping for any words or breath or reasoning. Her other hand touched his cheek and stroked his jaw as the pain clearly bathed him.

"Do not hate me." The Sherriff managed to squeeze out from his lungs as they pumped for more and more time.

"Guy… Guy, no, no, no, no."

"Please…"

"I could never hate you. I have always loved you and I always will, I need you Guy, please!"

"I cannot keep… going in this darkness of what I cannot forget," he choked out with an empty cough, "I cannot forgive myself…"

"Why would you do this to me?" Lacie whined out with her body folding in on itself.

"I can't, Lace, I can't… You will still have Locksley to raise Margaret. But we cannot have Sherriff taken from us… I can't have Drake taken from me… I can't let myself ruin your life anymore." Each word required more and more combat to form as he let out another cough; this one was wet with blood that traced down the corner of his mouth and trickled to his neck.

"Guy I don't… I can't! I can't! Let me get a doctor, you will be ok!" She watched as her tears dripped down onto his collar bone before a small smile came to him.

"Lacie it's done. I'm done –"

"Stop it!"

"- I will always love you, my sweet… little dove… please forgive me…"

"I will think of you until the day I die; Guy I cannot stop loving you."

"I was wrong," he muttered, both of them knowing he had never said this phrase before, "You are not naïve… you are… wonderful and… and strong. You will be okay."

"You made me that way." Lacie replied. She pressed her cheek to his own and buried her face into his ear, sobbing and crying her professions of love repeatedly. It wasn't until Lady Gisborne had caught her breath that she was quiet enough to notice she no longer heard him breathing. She sat back up and cradled his face in her hands, the flesh still warm from the life that had just escaped. Guy's lips were parted slightly and his eyes were empty; they were as transparent as a pane of glass and were completely unrecognizable to his own wife. That void, that shell of his stare, that would scar her for the rest of her life. Each night as Lacie shut her own eyes his were all she would think of. She heard herself screaming at the top of her lungs in an animalistic ache, squeezing her husband and covering herself in his blood as she refused to let their bodies part.

Guards poured into the room and quickly saw what had happened. Several of them grabbed at Gisborne's wife and tried to pull her away but she scratched and kicked and pounded with bony hands to beat them off. Profanities spouted from her but her mind was in no way connected to her body; all she was now was a body, just like her husband. Nothing survived inside any longer. Lacie's energy was eaten through in only a matter of minutes but she did not allow them to take her until Sherriff Gisborne's skin had fallen pale and began to feel cold. This chill was much more severe than ice and could not be matched by any other temperature on earth. It was then that Lacie the widow gave up and was dragged away, never to see her husband's face again.


	40. Like I Always Promised

Okay darlings, here it is, the final chapter. I want to sincerely thank each and every one of you for coming on this journey with me and cheering me on through reviews. I would love if you guys would pop a final note in the bottom for me! I do have a few other Guy of Gisborne stories currently being written, one of which is new and will be starting in the next few days, but there is also more under BioShock Infinite for those interested in that universe as well. Thank you for your time, your love, your personal notes regarding the losses in my family, and the awesome spirit that is Team Hood. Thank you for helping me discover the characters Guy and Lacie who I will always cherish. Have a great weekend and don't forget to review

Margaret pulled the string loose and untied the bouquet of flowers before gently setting them in a vase of water. Her hands were slim and smooth, like her mother's used to be, with the precision of an archer. This batch of flora was added to the ever replicating stash that lined the master bedroom of the Locksley Manor; Drake was sure to visit each evening and bring yet another bunch of fresh blossoms to Lacie. The whole of Nottingham knew that, after thirty years of living as Lady Gisborne without her husband, it was all coming to an end.

Margaret herself was the same age Lacie was when she lost her husband and she still could not fathom having endeared with brilliant colors after it all was said and done. Her brother, Drake, who now sat middle-aged at 46, had inherited the throne of Sherriff and led Nottinghamshire through King John's rule with great success and improved economy. None of that would have been possible without his mother by his side every step of the way, counseling him on what she knew from Sir Guy, and donating the motherly love that made everything seem a bit more okay. Lacie had made Margaret's wedding the best day of her life. She had always held a fondness for her father although he was lost early in her life, but she could not have been brought up any better than the way her single mother created. But now both children could do nothing but wait as the disease took Lacie away.

Drake made his way into the upstairs bedroom, skin still a bit hot from the ride in the sun from the castle, and took his seat at the foot of the bed where the old woman rested. Lacie did not bother opening her eyes before reaching over and holding her son's hand. He wished he could see her emerald eyes, the ones that still shined radiantly and looked to be those of a teenager's, but all he could watch was the thinness and the paleness of an ill and grayed woman. Lacie more than definitely did not look herself as she pursed her lips before another coughing spell took her. Her children looked away and attempted to distract themselves as the consumption infection possessed her lungs and dredged out hollow cough after empty hack until a small amount of blood would work its way up. They so did not want to see her this way.

"Mum, why don't you get some rest? Get some sleep." Margaret softly suggested as her mother tried to sit herself up yet again.

"Who's gonna keep track of you lot, then?" she weakly answered. Margaret scratched at the raven bun on her head and gave her mother a kiss on the forehead while stroking through her silver hair.

"Mum, we're adults," Drake chuckled, "We're married. We have jobs."

"You will never grow up." Lacie returned to her son with a peek under her eyelids. The man's resemblance to his father was breath taking. Even as he aged Drake followed Gisborne's pattern; crow's feet had come to wrap around his blue eyes as his side burns fell peppered with gray. It made his mother proud all while hurting her heart even after all this time. Lacie shifted a bit with a small groan and took in a deep breath, bathing herself in the crisp aroma of flowers all around the room. That drop of peace was worth the burning in her lungs to do before she began another session of coughing and losing all of her energy.

"Thank you," Lacie said as she was dragged in an undertow of fatigue, "Thank you for being here, for everything."

"There's nowhere else I could be." Drake whispered back.

"I love you, Mum." She heard her daughter say just before tumbling into a heavy sleep. She felt so sore, air was so thick, and a nap was so enticing. After what seemed only seconds Lacie popped back to consciousness. In the corner of the room stood her son, tall and with a cellophane strength, gripping his arms tightly around Margaret. Her daughter was in a fit of uncontrollable tears and sorrow. If not for Drake's support she probably would have collapsed to the floorboards. Drake turned his head to watch his mother as she woke up but looked as though he was starting to cry. Lacie's heart ached at knowing she was causing them harm, though she could not help it. The mother sat up straight to console them and took a bizarrely void breath; she instantly realized something was wrong.

Back erect and legs folded together, Lacie registered no pain. There was not a tight muscle to be found nor a sore point begging to lie back down. She had been bed ridden for two weeks. She called out her son's name whilst staring directly into his gaze and got no answer. Her words were clear as a bell but even shouting at Drake did not provoke a response. The door to the bedroom swung open as her son-in-law, Margaret's husband Walter, bustled into the room and rushed to the mother of his own children. Margaret switched shoulders to cry on as Lacie cocked her head over to figure out the odd expressions she was receiving. In this motion ends of her hair waterfalled over her shoulder and into view; it was strawberry red. She grabbed at her hair and took in deep breaths with no crackling to be heard. It was then she noticed her hands with taught milky skin, no wrinkles present, and no throbbing in the knuckles of her fingers. Lacie was spooked, but not nearly as much as she was when she peeked over to the other side of the room.

A short scream burst out as she covered her mouth with both hands. Moments passed before tears escaped and anything could enter her mind; the sight of her husband at the side of her bed terrified her. Sir Guy's smile was warm, his crystal eyes longing, all scars and age erased from his figure. He looked exactly as he did when Lacie married him.

"What the hell? …. Guy?"

"Lace, I have waited for you." He romantically told her with that familiar baritone voice as his hands touched her soft and youthful face. She looked past him into the mirror and saw herself, no more than twenty, in the arms of her spouse. She felt him hold her and suddenly lost all capability of fear.

"You can hear me?"

"Yes. Yes, and I have waited so long to." Guy giddily chirped. Lacie turned to see her children in the perpetual state of a shattered heart. She also noticed an old woman, herself, lying motionless in the bed next to her. She looked familiar, but Lacie held no connection to her. To that body.

"Oh my God, I'm dead," Lacie managed to vocalize with a deer like gaze into Guy, "I died. I don't… I can't… I –"

"It's all alright now." Gisborne brought her to her feet in their own half of the bedroom. She flung herself into his chest and clipped on, promising never to unhook herself, before they finally kissed for the first time in three decades.

"Guy, I don't think I know what to even think." She told him in a hushed tone.

"We will be together forever now, like I always promised you."

"I love you. I have wanted so much to tell you I love you." Lacie broke down into as many tears as Margaret had, but this time in joy.

"And I love you, my beautiful, beautiful Lacie. And I will never let go of you again." With this Sir Guy of Gisborne motioned towards the standing floor mirror in the room which had softened into a sort of pale light, as if thin glass that led out to the balcony. Lacie looked back over to her children, who she knew her and her husband had raised into strong and moral people with the ability to survive on their own. They, too, had families now, and had come to peace with Lacie's fate through the past few days. She knew that leaving them now would let them carry on into their lives. She also recognized now that it would not be the last time to see her family. With a smile she held the hand of her husband Guy and let him take her away into the afterlife her Bible had promised.

It was from this moment on that Lacie and Sir Guy of Gisborne could carry out their eternity together in love, in peace, and in safety like they had dreamed they would at their wedding almost fifty years ago. They had finally found serenity and had finally found each other. The couple held on tightly as they passed through, knowing that from here they would always have each other's love, unto ages upon ages, until the end of time itself.


End file.
